Red
by RamonaFlowers19
Summary: Grell spent his days and nights watching those dull mortals, preforming his job with dwindling excitement. But this woman…She could open doors for him, could give him that bit of exhilaration he had so longed for. That splash of color he needed in his eternal life. He wanted to paint the whole town red with her.
1. My fair lady

Dear readers,

I haven't written anything in such a long time~ I recently got into Black Butler, and fell in love with this pairing OTL I don't own anything, if I did Pluto and Madam Red would be alive ._.

-Ramona

* * *

Snow fell soundlessly in London, coating the rooftops and cobblestone streets. It crowded the narrow alleyways, turning into disgusting grey slush as the filthy inhabitants of the city went on with their dull business, sullying the perfect snow. But from where he sat, perched on the highest towers of a church, the snow was still white, pure and untouched. The figure, who was outstretched carelessly on the narrow tower, his back resting on the thin rod sticking out from it's peak, watched as the snow fell on the mountains of rooftops. The night breeze blew a few flakes in his direction, and he sighed dramatically as they landed on his nose. His eyes, which held a frightening shade of acid green, crossed as he inspected them. He grimaced, pushing his red glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Oh blast it all," The man mumbled to himself, "Here I am, a perfectly beautiful lady, and I'm all alone, on this cold night." He pouted out his lips, referring to _himself _ as a lady. Pulling a small leather bound book from the inside of his black jacket-which didn't seem thick enough for this cold weather- he flipped through the pages quickly, frowning and clicking his tongue in frustration. "I've done all my work for tonight, and I am so incredibly…bored!" He sobbed dramatically, about to toss the book away for dramatic affect, when he remembered it's importance. He would be in trouble if he lost that book, and would surely be scolded. Putting it away, he leaned back and looked back at the dull city, his acid green eyes turning to the sky. It was a quiet night, one perfect for staying inside and curling up by a fire, drinking a hot cup of chamomile tea and reading a book. But, the man wearing the red spectacles found himself resting on the tower of a church, alone, in the snow. He had miraculously finished his job-usually he was not so punctual- he supposed he could return home, but then again, that was boring as well.

His job itself was not boring, nor was the subject. It was actually quite serious. The man worked in death. Or rather, he was death. He was a grim reaper, one of many in fact. Working in the Dispatch Management Division, the reapers job is to collect specific souls, which wasn't a hard task, considering he had been born to do so. Collecting souls is what a grim reaper was born to do. But as of late…the young reaper had found he was growing bored, something he tended to do frequently. He was bored of all of it. Of the rules, the protocol! He wanted something new in his life. Something fun, something different than his daily routine. He wondered if his whole life would be…this. Harvesting souls for the rest of eternity? Spending cold winters nights alone? The thought made him cringe.

He looked down to a city street, where two small orphan children huddled together from the cold, looking into a bakery with large eyes and watering mouths. The baker came outside, and instead of giving the children some bread, he yelled at them loudly, throwing old rotting rubbish at them.

Sneering, he clicked his tongue, "I do detest the human world," Watching the children scurry about, he looked down at his nails and sighed, "but being back home would be such a bore." He did consider going back home for a moment, back to his small flat. He could read one of his delicious romance novels then sob pathetically about how alone he was. But then, after a while, he would grow tired of that as well.

And then it happened. Like the sound of sweet bells on Christmas morning, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the night air. Then as quickly as it came, was cut off. The night air became still once again. The lithe man stood nimbly, predatory eyes darting around as the moonlight reflected off his red spectacles, the chains dangling in the wind along with his long hair.

Where had that wondrous sound come from? The owner of that cry must have been suffering, the thought made a Cheshire grin crawl to his lips, and he clapped his leather clad hands happily. "Looks like I'll be working over time tonight!" He giggled to himself, and then pivoted on the tower, grabbing the metal rod and swinging himself, leaning off the towers edge and searching with his sharp eyes. The moonlight hit his red hair; so red it could be compared to a lovely rose. He took pride in his long, luscious hair, for every lady should. His suit was black, and rather light for the cold weather of London's winter. But the cold bitter weather didn't bother him, not in the slightest. He could hardly feel it at all actually. He sighed, frowning as he scanned the terrain. The streets were like mazes to him, and he wondered how the humans could even find their way around the labyrinth. He was about to give up his search, when he spotted something.

In a dark ally, just below the church, he saw a woman. A blond haired tart with smeared blue eye shadow and a rather revealing dress. He guessed she must have been a street whore. Her dress was tattered, and the lipstick she wore was a ghastly shade of pink. But that wasn't what made the man's grin falter, not what made his eyes widen slightly. It was the sight of the woman.

The ravishing woman in red.

She held the knife in her pale, delicate hand firmly. Thick red blood coated the blade and spilled onto the snow at her feet, her hands trembling ever so slightly. The whore lay on the ground, chocking and sputtering as the red pumped from a hasty slash in her neck, quickly made to silence her screech. The woman in reds' breath came out ragged, visible in the cold air. Shoulders were hunched, her amber eyes crazed, she was indeed a killer. The blood was everywhere. Covering the snow, the hem of her dress, a few blots on her pale, trembling face. She was so, so very lovely to the reaper, so lovely that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He had never seen such radiance in all his days! He had seen many killers, a big beastly man wringing the life from a woman's neck, or a disturbed doctor poisoning his patients. But this woman, she was special; she basked in the color red. He watched as she looked up at the night sky, the wind blowing through her bangs as her startling crimson eyes went to the bright moon, the light catching in her irises and illuminating them. The reaper felt his throat get thick. Oh, how the ladies red eyes called to him! Like a siren at sea, he felt himself being drawn in. But the reaper calmed himself, staying put to watch the marvelous show.

The whore gasped, chocking and looking up at the woman, reaching out with trembling, blood coated fingers. The slice in her neck wasn't enough to kill her, but the life was draining slowly from her eyes. The woman in red stilled, and she narrowed her eyes. The man watched intently, holding his breath as he awaited her next move.

"It hurts, does it?" He heard her murmur, her voice music to his ears, silky and sweet like honey. The red haired woman flipped the wench onto her back, and the rip of fabric was heard. She hunched over the whore, and the red haired reaper watched as the cruel lady raised her blade, a smile coming to her red lips as she brought it down with surprising precision. Her skilled hand sliced into the bare stomach of the whore, making delightful chills run up and down his spine. Pale blue eyes widened, the whores body going still, yet the life not yet draining from her eyes. No, not yet. Not even as the red haired vixen sliced her open and actually reached inside her, bowing her head and closing her eyes, searching.

It was all too beautiful, too marvelous for the man not to be moved to tears as he watched the display. How she worked, how she sat looking so beautiful amongst all the red. She was an angel in his acidic, inhuman eyes. And with a gasp, he watched as she ripped something from the wench, who's eyes had long rolled into the back of her skull, her mouth agape as the red haired woman held something in her hand. The blood coated her dress sleeve, dripped down to her elbow and onto the snow. It appeared to be an organ of sorts, but he wasn't sure exactly what. She looked down at it, her grip tightening and a sneer forming on her lips. "You don't deserve it…" He heard her snap.

He began clapping, and the woman dropped the slimy thing from her delicate blood stained hands, her head whipping back to look at him with wide, red eyes.

"I have been watching, and I must say, I admire your work!" He called out, admiration in his eyes and a catty grin on his mouth.

In the woman's eyes, he was merely a black silhouette, the glint of his glasses and his long, pointed teeth frightening her. Effortlessly, he jumped down, landing silently like a cat on his feet. He walked to the woman, who backed away slightly, ready to run if necessary.

"My lady, never before have I seen such marvelous work. True, your technique is a bit crazed, but in time, I believe you can become a truly divine killer." He smiled once more; those teeth of his making the woman drop her knife.

He then noticed that she wasn't wearing a coat, merely a beautiful red dress, something he himself would have chosen. _Oh how lovely! Deadly and fashionable, _he thought to himself as he silently admired her.

Sweat dripped down her cheek, and she shivered slightly. "A frail human like you will catch cold if you stay out here…" He smiled, reaching out for her. "Come, let's talk beside a nice warm fire."

The lady looked at him with watering eyes, "H-have you come to take me away?" She asked, her voice breaking slightly.

The man blinked, "Come again?"

Tears fell from her eyes, and she seemed to stagger a bit, like she was having trouble standing. "I'll s-surely be punished…for what I've done." To the woman, he seemed like some…Demon come to take her away to hell for the crime she had just committed.

He began to laugh loudly, holding his stomach. "Oh no my lady! I am not here to punish. I am here to assist. If you will allow me to do so." He gave her a secretive grin, reaching out carefully and taking her bloody hand as he got down on one knee. "I would be honored, if you would allow me to assist you, my lady in red." Without hesitation, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on her hand, and the woman stopped crying, her face becoming unreadable. He watched as her eyes fluttered, and she began to sway, the cold having got to her. He blinked, getting up and catching her as she began to fall. "Are you alright?" He frowned, panicking slightly. He wasn't sure what to do! He had watched many humans die from a cold before, and had harvested many souls who had fallen ill from the harsh winter. He began to fret, looking around and wondering if he should take her someplace warm.

She looked up at him, another tear trickling down her cheek, but her face relaxed. It looked as if she was in a daze, and she slowly blinked up at him. She had obviously come down from her rush, and was having trouble staying awake.

"What's your name?" She murmured, her breath misting around her face.

His glasses glinted dangerously as he grinned down at her, "Madam, I am Grell Sutcliff, at your service! And what might your name be?" Grell Sutcliff asked, picking her up carefully, the weight of her being nothing in his inhuman arms.

She coughed softly, and rolled her face into the crook of his neck, like a kitten searching for warmth. The gesture was rather familiar, and the red haired reapers cheeks flushed slightly. Grell blinked once more, pulling back to look down at her, ready to repeat his question again, when he found she was asleep.

"Oh what a bother." He clicked his tongue, looking down at the bloody, beautiful lady in his arms, to the whore at his feet and the giant pool of red stained snow. "This truly is a mess I have gotten myself into."

Grell leaped into the air, landing on one of the buildings and sighing. He guessed he should take her home. But he had no idea where she lived! He sighed dramatically and chewed the inside of his lip, not sure what to do. He frowned at the woman, crouching on the rooftop and laying her down, and then began slapping her cheek carefully.

"Madame!" He frowned, "Oh wake up! You'll surely catch your death of cold if I don't get you inside, and I don't wish to reap your soul when I don't even know your name." He pouted.

Her eyebrows drew together and she grumbled a bit before answering him, "A-Angelina…Durless." She whispered, and Grell blushed further. He did not fancy woman, not in the slightest. Grell much preferred a strapping man who would coldly glare at him and teach him a lesson in bed. But his heart thumped pleasantly when the beautiful lady spoke her name.

"Angelina." The name rolled off his tongue pleasantly, "Oh so beautiful, with the name of an angel no less." He murmured, looking down at her pale face, carefully wiping the blood from her cheek. Her long, crimson hair surrounded her like a bloody halo, her red lips parted and long thick lashes touching her cheeks. She was a vision on pure loveliness, and Grell was smitten with this angel, this goddess of death. He had found his muse! His inspiration!

She began to shiver, and he let out a little squeak, his eyebrows furrowing as he hastily pulled her back into his arms, trying to offer her his body heat. "Oh blast it all! I'm as cold as the snow." He hissed under his breath, and Angelina coughed once more. "I'm fine." She mumbled, and Grell merely rolled his eyes, "You can hardly stand. Now, what is your address?"

"M-My address…?" She echoed, eyes fluttering closed. He placed a gloved hand to her cheek. "My lady Angelina, you must tell me your address, so I can take you home." She gave him a small nod, half whispering the address to him, then her breathing became deep, and she slipped off again.

"Don't worry my beautiful Angelina, Grell Sutcliff shall protect you!" He vowed dramatically, leaping onto the next building with a determined look on his face, which quickly vanished when he realized; He had no idea where on earth he was going. London truly was a labyrinth. "Oh bloody hell!"

* * *

Grell stood on the stoop, looking up at the door with a frustrated sigh, then backing up to read the numbers beside the door. He had found the ladies town house, and raised an eyebrow at the side of London he had found himself in. The streets were clean, and there were no beggar children or dogs running about.

He rang the bell impatiently, hearing the buzzer go off inside. Surely the lady had a butler, or some sort of maid. She looked like she belonged to a higher class, and was a blue blood of sorts. He grinned and looked down at her. Not only was she a beautiful lady, she was also refined, dignified, a killer of higher class.

"Why the hell is no one answering." He hissed as he drew his attention back to the door, hitting the bell again. A small, pale hand reached out, placing her hand over his gloved one. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and he looked down at the woman, his eyes meeting hers.

"I don't have any servants. I sent them all away." She cleared her throat, slowly reached into the folds of her dress, and produced a silver key.

Grell raised an eyebrow. "A lady like you? Taking care of herself?"

Angelina rolled her eyes at him, and then leaned over to slip the key into the lock, turning it, "I can take care of myself." She mumbled stubbornly, as she had in the past hour as Grell tried to find his way around London.

"Oh please, you can hardly fend for yourself." He batted her hand away and took the key, then held her easily with one arm. Turning the door handle, Grell frowned as he stepped inside, looking around the lavish apartment, with its grand staircase and beautiful red wallpaper. "You have impeccable taste…" He smiled, and the lady in his arms said nothing, just silently held onto him, fighting sleep.

"Upstairs…" She mumbled, obviously feeling tired once again. Grell frowned. One moment she was rolling her eyes at him, and the next she was holding onto him for support. He couldn't understand humans.

The reaper went up the staircase, his eyes easily seeing in the darkness of the flat. He went to the first room, which appeared to be a study. He sighed, backing away to the room adjacent to it, smiling when he saw a red bed, with thick velvet drapes surrounding it. Moonlight pooled into the room from the window beside the large bed, and Grell couldn't help but notice that the room was rather…Dusty, as was the whole house. The lady obviously had fired all her staff, but wasn't very keen to housework.

Grell carefully laid the woman on the bed, looking down at her with curious eyes. Her hair pooled around her, and her breathing was slow, as she had slipped back into a deep sleep once again. He wondered if he should just leave her there, like that, but it wouldn't be good for her cold. Grell chewed the inside of his lip, then pulled off his gloves, folding them and placing the pair in his back pocket. He went to work on the laces of her dark red boots, admiring them as he slipped it off her small foot, then went to work on it's twin. He placed the boots on the floor, and then pursed his lips.

Grell had never been to bed with a woman before. He had kissed a young girl when he was still in school, and had gone so far as to allow her to touch him intimately. But that was as far as he had been. Normally, the idea of undressing a woman would make the man cringe. But this lady…His heart thumped a bit, and he let out a sigh. "Calm yourself Grell. You're acting like a spineless school girl."

Slowly, he began to undo the buttons to her dress. He wondered briefly if he should look away, but he doubted he would be able to take it off if he did. It was rather complicated. "There, that wasn't so hard." He mumbled when he had undone all the buttons, and was relieved to see she wore something underneath. Slowly he sat her up, pulling the dress from her arms swiftly, and folding it. Now she lay in a provocative white corset, and a long under skirt.

Grell bit his lip. He was treading in deep water. His eyes skimmed her neck, which was smooth and unblemished. Flawless. Then they trailed down to her collarbone, and to the top of her breasts, which were poking out from the top of her corset. She was indeed, lovely. Grells cheeks felt hot and he ran a hand over her cheek, and then trailed a finer down her neck to her chest. Angelina gave a little sigh in her sleep, turning her face to the side, making Grell still. She slipped off to sleep again, and he let out a breath, having been holding it. What on earth was he doing? Here he was, a defined lady, watching this woman in her sleep like some sort of pervert. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had to get back to the task at hand!

Grell frowned down at the long skirt. That would have to come off as well. "Do it quickly." He mumbled to himself, securing his hands in the fabric and bracing himself as he slipped it off her long, perfect legs. Grell turned red at the sight beneath. She wore a small pair of bloomers. Not the long, ghastly things that went down to a ladies knees. She also wore red, thigh high socks, secured by tantalizing hooks. It was all rather seductive. What the Lady Angelina was wearing beneath her dress had the reaper in a bit of a tizzy, and Grell Sutcliff found that his glasses were fogging up slightly.

He spun on his heels and went to the wardrobe, opening it and looking for something he could slip on her, a night gown, anything really. He just wanted her covered up! But all he saw were more lovely red dresses. He had to stop himself from trying them on, and decided he would do that later. He shut the wardrobe, and then went to an expensive looking bureau, opening the top drawer and practically getting a nosebleed when he saw a large volume of panties and slips. All different shapes, sizes, and colors, making the reapers head spin. Green eyes were transfixed on a particular pair or red lace bloomers, briefly contemplating touching them to feel the fine silk. He slammed the drawer shut after a moment of gawking, then opened the next. He sighed in relief; seeing that he had at last found the nightgowns. He pulled out a fine garment, it was long and crafted of the finest silk, and would be comfortable for the lady. It was also red, which was why he selected it. He shut the drawer and went back to Angelina, gulping as he realized he would have to remove the corset. He knew it was bad to sleep in the harnesses, as the lady could suffocate. Setting down the nightgown, he began to pull the silk ties to the contraption, watching as it loosened up and her chest was more open to him. Grell admitted to himself that she indeed had an endowed body, something that had to be crafted by gods. The reaper couldn't help but to be jealous of her beautiful curves, as any lady would. But he also found himself feeling rather _peculiar_ as he continued to undo the ties to her corset. Grell began to feel the same intensity as he did when he gazed on a devilishly attractive man, one he wanted to do wicked things with. His green eyes widened faintly. Did that mean he wanted to do those things with Lady Angelina? The thought made Grell flush.

Breaking him from his dirty thoughts, the lady made a sound in her sleep, and Grell made a small squeak in the back of his throat. He pulled off the corset quickly, leaving her bare chest before him. Sweat dripped down his cheek as he turned as red as his hair, resembling a tomato, and he forced himself not to look-or touch-her chest. The reaper hurriedly unclipped the fastenings to her thigh highs, pulling them off her, but leaving her panties in place. Grell wasn't sure if he was prepared to see such a sight.

Slipping the nightgown upon her, he let out an exhausted sigh, ready to leave and have a drink, a strong one. Usually the young reaper wasn't one to indulge in liquor, but after what he had just experienced, he needed it.

However, then he saw how sweaty the lady was, and how her eyebrows drew together. Cautiously, he lifted her small hand, feeling how clammy and cold it was. She shivered; Grell frowned as he drew back the thick blankets, and covered her. He tucked her in carefully, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. The reaper found himself staring at her face, his death god eyes roving over every detail. She had blood smeared on her cheek, and her beautiful red hair clung to her forehead.

"She's sick…" The red head murmured, taking his hand and placing it on her forehead. She was indeed burning up, and the reaper sighed. He pulled back and removed his fine black coat. He folded it neatly, and laid it on a sitting chair beside the bed. Grell rolled up his sleeves, and turned on the lamp beside her bed. He frowned down at the human woman, clicked his tongue, as his cheeks felt heated again. "Why am I even doing this?" He chided himself, turning dramatically and leaving the room to find the washroom with a frown. "William will beat me black and blue."

With his sharp eyes, he could find his way through the flat, but was having a hard time finding the washroom. He opened a door, a delicate eyebrow rising when he found himself in a nursery of sorts. The walls were a creamy yellow, and there was a beautiful, handcrafted crib by a large window. Toys were stacked on shelves, and a changing table with all the fixings sat by a large fireplace. The reaper frowned, because he saw no baby. In fact, the room was rather dusty, as if no one had been inside for a long time. A small smile formed on his lips, and he shut the door, retreated further down the hall and at last came to a lavatory.

The room itself was bigger than his bedroom at home, and he found himself envying the large bathtub, with its fine porcelain and golden-clawed feet. From the corner of his eye he spotted a washbowl on the counter, and tore his eyes from the gaudy bathtub. He turned on the faucet, holding his hand under the water and checking to see if it was cool enough. Satisfied with the temperature, Grell found a soft washcloth, and carefully picked up the bowl, carrying it back to Angelina's room and setting it on her side table. Pursing his lips he went to the fireplace, and crouched down, grabbing a few logs and placing them in the hearth, then looking for a box of matches. He found them on the mantel, beside a few framed photographs. Grells eyes skimmed over the faces leisurely, his eyes resting on a couple, a rather handsome young man with dark hair, and a woman beside him with long blond hair, and deep blue eyes. He saw a few more pictures of her, but she was younger. "A sister?" He mused to himself, and he smiled when his eyes fell on the last picture, which was of the blond lady, braiding the vibrant red hair of a very young Lady Angelina. He smiled, seeing the slight blush to her cheeks, the innocence in her eyes. He struck the match, tossing it on the logs and watching as the flames slowly grew. The young reaper was mesmerized for a moment, the flames putting him in a bit of a trance. Grell thought of his childhood, and how he had been alone most of the time. He had longed for a sister. Someone he could dress up like a doll, could have tea parties with. He would braid her hair, and would teach her all about being a fine young lady. But Grell had been an only child, and his parents...The death god scowled, pushing up his glasses and standing. He would rather not think of his parents.

Instead, he went back to his lady, the beautiful Angelina. Grell smiled as he dipped the washcloth in the cool water, wringing it out carefully then bringing it to her face. He blotted her heated skin, and the lady smiled, the water helping sooth her. He folded the towel, and placed it on her forehead so it would help bring down her fever.

"Oh my exquisite lady…" He spoke to her gently, "How delicate you are."

He sat back in the chair beside her bed, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he watched her. His eyes studied every inch of her, all the while his mind worked quickly. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, but he knew as a death god, even speaking to her wasn't acceptable. He had already broken countless rules by going to her house, assisting her. Grell knew he should have just silently watched as Angelina killed that whore. He guessed she would have fainted, since she hadn't bothered to wear a decent pair of gloves or a coat. His eyebrow twitched slightly at the thought. Would she have fainted in the snow? Would she have died? Would he have had to reap her soul? Grell frowned to himself, and decided to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. Death gods were neutral beings. They didn't help humans at all. That wasn't their purpose. They were designed to maintain the balance of life and death. That was all. He wasn't supposed to help her, wasn't alleged to even speak to her. But Grell had been fascinated with the creature. He admitted, he enjoyed watching her kill that woman, had loved the cold glare in her eyes as she reached inside her and ripped out her insides. And he wanted to see her do it again, wanted her to continue to kill forever. He began to chuckle to himself, amused with his own thoughts. Here he was, a god of death, a superior being, and a mere human woman moved him to tears when she killed.

For Grell, death wasn't a sad subject. Everyday he watched countless wretches die. Some died in there sleep peacefully, some died like filthy dogs in the street, and some died surrounded by numerous friends. But in the end, they all ended up the same. Just empty lifeless bodies piling up. The human world wasn't anything more than a gigantic coffin, piling up with corpses. Grell spent his days and nights watching those dull mortals, preforming his job with dwindling excitement. But this woman…She could open doors for him, could give him that bit of exhilaration he had so longed for. That splash of color he needed in his eternal life. He wanted to paint the whole town red with her.

Time crawled on, the fire warming the room and lulling the fair skinned man to sleep. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and he sighed, leaning forward to take the cloth of her head and dip it in the water once again, wringing it out and placing it back on her forehead. Angelina smiled in her sleep, and the reaper leaned back, yawning.

"William will surely have my head if I stay in the human world tonight…" Grell sighed out loud, thinking of William T. Spears, someone he had been working with for a long time. Angelina stirred in her sleep, eyebrows drawing together as she coughed. Grells face softened, and he smiled at her. "But if I leave, who will take care of this lovely lady?" He leaned back, looking at Angelina as his eyes gradually slipped closed, and for the first time in a very long time, the reaper slipped into slumber.

He dreamt of a stunning lady in red, sitting at his feet as he braided her long hair. Meanwhile, the lady Angelina Durless dreamt of a man with red hair and sharp teeth, looking at her with a Cheshire grin.

* * *

T-T it isn't as long as I hoped it to be, but I'm a bit rusty. I hope you enjoyed chapter one~


	2. Lycoris

Dear Readers,

I updated really fast. Your fucking welcome. I don't own anything, if I did Alois would be alive ._.

-Ramona

* * *

"_Ann's red hair is truly beautiful,"_ Vincent said, looking over at her with kind eyes, _"the color of Lycoris, a color that blazes the earth. Red really suits you."_

Ann felt her heart clench as he said those words to her. She was just fifteen, and when he smiled at her like that it had her heart racing and her cheeks turning a red darker than her hair. Since the moment she had laid eyes on him, she had been smitten. Angelina went to shyly look down at her hands, since looking at his eyes made her heart clench.

But she was no longer sitting by the river bend with the man she admired. Now she was in a hospital gown, looking down at her trembling hands as tears fell onto her palms. Angelina began to lift up her gown. She had to see it. Had to force herself to believe that it was no longer there.

Across her flat stomach was a vile, angry scar staring at her, like a grave marker, representing the life that had been stolen before it was given the chance to live. She was no more than an empty shell, the tombstone of her unborn child. All the life had been ripped from her eyes as she stared blankly down at her stomach, which was now flat. Her husband was now gone, along with her baby. Angelina closed her eyes.

Flames licked at her face, and she opened her eyes she was before a mansion that was consumed by an inferno. The Phantomhive manor she had come to know as a second home, where her sister Rachel lived with her unrequited love, Vincent. They had a child, a beautiful child she had come to love as her own. And now it was gone, stolen from her just as her own baby had been.

Angelina dropped to her knees, holding the sides of her face as she let out a gut-wrenching scream. She couldn't take it. Everything she held dear had been ripped from her hands. She didn't understand why it had to happen to her, what she had done to deserve a fate such as this. To be alone, forever, all of her loved ones taken from her.

Once she opened her eyes she found herself in front of that whore. That stupid wretch who had asked her to take the very thing she wanted so badly.

_She didn't deserve it._

The blade was in her trembling hands, the blood the color of her hair, her eyes, and her clothes.

Red.

_"Red really suits you."_

Angelina hated that blasted color. But at the same time, she adored it. It was the only thing she had left. Red.

Looking up from the knife, Angelina found an effeminate being standing before her, holding out a gloved hand. Its eyes were like two burning gemstones, the sickening shade of peridot. They bore into her very core, and she felt so naked, as if the creature was staring into her very soul. Its eyes gleamed down at her as its lips spread into a wide grin, revealing two rows of pointed teeth.

The woman was sure it had come to punish her. Had come to take her away for what she had done to those whores. But Angelina regretted nothing. That wench had deserved to die. She didn't deserve to have such a blessed gift inside her. Angelina sought it her duty to take it away, to show her justice through crimes. She didn't care if she was covered in blood, of if she became as wild and crazed as an animal while she killed. The women deserved to die, and she would see to it.

But the red haired thing offered her its hand, giving her praise and smiling upon her. It said she was lovely, and had kissed her bloody hand tenderly, lovingly.

_"Red really suits you."_

"Ah!" Angelina Durless let out a gasp, jolting awake.

She panted heavily, placing a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating heavily. "A dream…?" The sweating red head mumbled to herself, then cringing as she felt like she was gargling glass.

The afternoon sun gleamed through the small crack in the thick red velvet curtains covering her large window, which someone had drawn. Angelina pondered for a moment who could have done so, since she had dismissed all of her staff after the accident.

Drawing her eyes away from the window to look at the ceiling, she narrowed her eyes, recalling the previous nights events. What had happened? Angelina bit her lip as she tried to remember what she had done…She remembered giving a prostitute an abortion earlier in the day…

_Oh that's right,_ she thought dryly, _I killed the bitch._

Angelina sneezed loudly, covering her nose with her hands and frowning as she drew them back. Blinking in confusion, Angelina looked around her room. "Wait a second, how did I get back here?"

That's when she saw it. The red dress she had been wearing last night draped carelessly across the love seat across her room. She knew she had not removed it herself, because She would have put it in the hamper, since it was covered in whore's blood. Then her tired eyes trailed along the love seat, and she saw them. Her new corset and best thigh highs neatly folded on the armrest.

Angelina's cheeks turned red and she pulled the covers up to look down at herself. She was in her red silk nightdress she had worn on her wedding night! How on earth had this happened? Angelina wracked her brain, trying to remember that night's events and putting her hands on her cheeks, which were burning up. She felt like a frazzled teenager, even though she was twenty-eight and had been with men before.

But just the thought of someone undressing her while she was asleep…

Angelina shook her head. She had to remember what happened.

_ Let's see, I killed that bitch, and then…I remember I started feeling hot…And then-_

She tried to remember, but her thoughts were once again interrupted by a sneeze. Sniffling, she wiped at her nose and coughed. Her throat felt sore, and her head was pounding. "Must have been the cold", she mused to herself, "What a great time to get sick." Grumbling, and sniffled again.

Someone lightly knocked on her door, and she jumped, pulling the covers up over her nose while pushing herself back into her lush pillows. _Oh god_, she looked at the door with wide eyes, _did someone actually take me home and undress me?_

The door opened slowly, and a tall man-or at least she thought it was a man- stepped in, carrying a sterling silver tray.

"Who the hell are you?" She snapped, though she didn't sound very threatening since her voice was slightly hoarse, "Get out of my-"

Angelina's words died in her sore throat when he grinned at her, and she saw his menacing teeth. They were like the one's belonging to the creature she saw in her dream.

"You…" She remembered the man now. He had complimented her, seen her killing that wench, and he had…

_Taken me home and undressed me? _Her eyebrow twitched as she screamed the words in her head, but she couldn't find her voice.

There was something wrong with this man, she didn't know what, but she got a bad vibe from him.

He continued to smile at her, "Good morning Madam! Well, I guess I should say good afternoon, since it's a quarter past two. But I realize you must have been dreadfully exhausted after the night you had." He gave Angelina a wink-which made her eye twitch- and then came to her side holding the tray. He was speaking to her as if he had known her all his life! Like they weren't complete strangers and he hadn't witnessed her hacking up a prostitute in the street.

Bead of sweat dripped down Angelina's temple.

_Why has he not turned me over to the authorities? _

"Who are you?" She blinked up at him, trying not to panic.

The man smiled and set the tray down on her bureau, then reached over to her bedside table, gathering up a damp washcloth. Carefully, he pat her cheek, ignoring her question. The cold felt good on her face, which had grown sticky due to the sweat.

Finally, he answered.

"I'm a friend." He ran the cloth over her temple, and she frowned at him.

"No, I don't recall ever making your acquaintance before. Now, tell me, who the _hell_ are you and why are you in my house?"

The red haired man began to giggle, and a blush formed under his cheeks, "Oh I love it when you get that cold look in your eye. So ruthless, it's simply divine." He gave her a lecherous grin, and Angelina was ready to slap him.

"Get out of my house right now!" Angelina hissed, and raised her hand back to strike him. But his eyes caught hers, and she stilled.

Out of fear.

His eyes bore into her, as they had in her dream.

_It's like he's staring at my soul._

"Madam," He said slowly, pulling back his hand and tossing the washcloth aside. He held her gaze, "My name is Grell Sutcliff. And I'm a friend." She opened her mouth to ask more questions, and he held up his finger, silencing her and giving her a grin, "All in due time my lady."

_Grell Sutcliff_, she mused, _what a strange name_.

He continued to grin at her like a lunatic, and she sighed.

_But then again, he is a rather strange man_.

Angelina narrowed her eyes at him, and began to look him over. He wore a brown vest, black tie, and had armbands around his white dress shirt. She noted a black suit jacket draped cross the back of the sitting chair beside her bed, and figured it belonged to him. Angelina frowned. He dressed normally enough, but his long flaming red hair, eyes and teeth told her other wise. He wasn't normal, but then again, neither was she.

"Why are you being so kind to me? I've never spoken to you before, and I'm not the kind of lady many take a liking to." She asked, still not trusting him.

His eyes softened, which caught her off guard. Angelina caught herself staring into them.

They were the oddest shade of green. She had never seen such eyes, like burning gems. Angelina wondered if he was even human. She prided herself in not believing in childish things like ghouls or ghosts, but she was having a hard time believing he was human.

But she could feel an odd aura surrounding the man. Like he was giving off a strange…_Pressure_. She didn't know how to phrase it, but it felt as if he was radiating some sort of energy. She could not tell if it was positive or negative.

"I am being kind to you because I find you to be very entertaining." He continued to smile, leaning back and withdrawing his hand. Grell then sat in the chair beside her bed, gracefully crossing one of his long, slender legs over the other. He propped an elbow on the armrest, placing his chin on his gloved palm and continued to watch her carefully with those eyes. She then noted he was wearing glasses. Red cat rimmed glasses with beaded chains, and what appeared to be skull shaped beads. He acted harmless, but she knew better.

Angelina knew she had to be careful with this man. He had witnessed her killing the street whore. He could turn her into the police. Or worse, he could be working for the police.

"Why have you not turned me over to the yard?" She asked, watching him and meeting his gaze. "I imagine you'll get a great reward for apprehending me."

Grell merely giggled, "Why would I do a thing like that? Then I would be missing out on the greatest show I've ever seen." His words made her eyes widen slightly in surprise. She had not been expecting that.

"What?" The woman looked at him like he had two heads.

He leaned forward, grinning at her like she had told a joke, "Madam, I believe that woman truly deserved what she was given. She was a repulsive wench who gave away the one thing you and I both desire; A child."

Her eyes turned into slits and she gave him an icy glare.

"And just how do you know about that?"

Somehow, his grin grew, and he giggled once more, "Oh madam, I have many talents. I know everything about you, the good bits and the bad," He pushed his glasses up his nose, "Every single thing you've ever done, I have access to it all. So of course I would know about your fateful accident, the one that stole both your husband and your unborn child." He went on with a slight pout, "It's all quite sad really, your life has been nothing but a big tragedy. Nothing but a poorly written drama." He reached out and moved her bangs from her eyes, which were wide. Angelina could not stop herself from trembling as he touched her, because she knew everything he was saying was true.

"But the sad life you have lived has turned you into such a marvelous woman. You paint the streets of London with beautiful red, teaching those whores a lesson." He smirked at her, and her heart skipped a beat, "I am unable to have a child because I am a man, and your ability to bear fruit has been taken from you." He dragged his gloved fingers over her cheek, "But I say we work together, to right the wrongs that have been forced onto us. You and I should paint the town red together." He drawled out the last sentence, his teeth making the words drip with venom.

Angelina looked at him with conflicting eyes as he finally drew his hand back.

_He's like a monster from a fairy tale._

She had been holding her breath the entire time he spoke, and she felt her heart thump. But she had to remain calm. "And how will working with the likes of you benefit me?" She asked, her eyes turning cold and her eyebrow rising.

Grell chuckled, "Oh I like you! So _cruel_, and down to business."

Angelina continued to glare, but she couldn't stop her frown from deepening. "Honestly, how on earth do you expect me to work with you when-"

And then he vanished.

Angelina blinked, sitting up and looking around.

"Grell…?" She wondered for a split second if he had ever been there at all, or if she had really gone off the deep end and had been hallucinating him.

"Oh I do love how you say my name." His silky voice drawled dangerously close to her. She stiffened, feeling cold breath on her neck. His nose was in her hair, and she couldn't help the way her cheeks grew hot.

"My lady, you have the most lovely hair. Such an exquisite shade of red," He murmured in her ear, and she felt an odd mixture of fear and lust wash over her.

_What the hell is wrong with me? _She blinked; _surely I'm not that desperate._

"I must admit, when I first saw you amongst all that red, I was moved to tears by your cruel beauty." He gently spoke in her ear, and she could have sworn she felt his tongue against her ear lobe.

"What are you?" She mumbled, barely finding her voice.

Angelina truly did not believe in ghouls, but at that moment, she was beginning to.

As he chuckled in her ear, she felt chills roll down her, and she tried not to squirm. "I'm not sure you'll believe what I have to say…" His nose was in her hair again, and this time she hear him inhaling.

"I think I'll believe anything now."

His gloved hand began to stroke her arm, then played along her collar bone lightly. Angelina's cheeks grew hot and the being chuckled again, his voice like a mysterious melody.

"Have you ever heard of the grim reaper?" Grell asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke in her hair, slender fingers now running over her throat.

Angelina felt a rush of cold wash over her, and it took her a moment to answer. "I suppose I have…when I was a child." Her eyebrows drew together.

"Tell me what you know of him." She could feel the grin he was wearing, could hear it in his voice.

Angelina was finding it harder and harder to remain calm. One moment she was frightened, and then the next she was turning to jelly in the creatures' hands.

He waited for her to respond, and she cleared her throat, swallowing thickly, "W-well," She closed her eyes, "He wears a black cloak and carries a sickle. I've heard he's nothing more than a skeleton," She frowned, "B-but what does that have to do with-"

"I'm a grim reaper." He said bluntly, licking her ear lobe again.

Angelina's eye's widened, and she tried to swallow, but all she was able to do was make a clicking noise in the back of her throat. It took her a few moments to speak. "And you expect me to believe this?" She asked, trying to sound confident.

Grell merely gave another grin, and returned to petting her, "Well you should, since it's the truth. How else could I have learned so much about you, and know that you've killed five other woman."

The blood in her veins ran cold. She didn't respond, and Grell went on.

"I don't know how I didn't notice before, since I had been so busy as of late. I hardly noticed the damage done to the wenches as I reaped their souls. But now I see the pattern," He sighed, "Mary Kelly, Agnes McDonald, Rebecca Todd-"

"H-how do you…how do you know that? How could you possibly know?"

It was _impossible_ for him to know that. Most of the girls she killed she had dumped in the river. None of their bodes had turned up yet.

_Unless he really is-_

"Because I'm a grim reaper darling. But I'm afraid to say I'm not the only one. Oh no, there's scores of us. And we don't wear those god awful black cloaks anymore." He made a tsking sound, "Those were the drabbest things I've ever laid eyes on."

Thoughts raced in her head, but all she could manage to do was slightly pull away from the odd man, from the _reaper._ Looking up at him, she noted how close his face was to hers, and that _dammed grin_ he was giving her made her want to slap him again. But Angelina refrained from doing so. There was no way anyone could have known about the girls he had mentioned, and the way he had vanished from her eyes had been impossible.

But she supposed the things she thought to have been impossible were in fact possible, since a grim reaper was lying beside her, talking about cloaks and what not.

And all she could manage to think was; this is not what she would have expected from a grim reaper.

Sure, he was rather frightening, but he was also…rather annoying and flamboyant. He didn't seem like a god of death, nor did he act like one.

But this could benefit her. Having a grim reaper as an accomplice could prove to be quite beneficial. And besides, what else had she to loose?

Angelina frowned, this had to be the craziest thing I have ever done. Then took a deep breath. Some how Angelina kept her face straight.

"Fine. I agree to partnering with you," She watched as the reapers face began to light up, and she held up a finger, "But I have a few conditions."

He snickered, "Oh come now darling, rules don't make it fun."

She frowned at him, "First of all, you may call me Madam Red, or just Madam," Angelina looked him over, seeing how close he was to her and feeling uncomfortable, "And you're not allowed to be on my bed. Nor are you allowed to fawn over me like some lunatic."

He gave her a pout, and she narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a cold stare. "But you're so lovely Angelina, how can I not fawn over you?" He nuzzled her, and she flushed, covering her mouth as she coughed. "I told you, you can either call me Madam Red of Mad-"

Grell put his hand on her forehead, silencing her. He made a small tsking sound in the back of his throat. "I need to nurse you back to health! I cannot have my lady-" He stopped and corrected himself, "My Madam, dying of a cold. If I did, what kind of butler would I be?" He asked with a playful grin, standing and fetching the tray of food he had prepared.

Angelina scowled, "Butler? Who said anything about-"

"Madam, it would be rather suspicious if you had a man suddenly living with you, especially after the death of your husband. And getting married after your late husbands death would cause numerous rumors, and wreck your reputation as a dignified lady." She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand, continuing, "And further more, you certainly are in need of a butler. Or at least a simple housemaid, someone to dust and wash the floors, to do the laundry-which is piling up by the way," He paused only to take a breath, "Your flat is filthy. I couldn't find a single clean dish!" He grimaced and nagged like a mother hen, talking quickly. He took the tray and sat it on her lap, "Now, eat all of this. You'll feel much better!" He looked at her expectantly, and she frowned down at the tray.

Angelina's head had begun to spin at how fast he was talking, and she began to regret her decision of partnering up with him. If he talked like this all the time, she was sure she would kill him.

"Eat!" He pressed, and she blinked, looking down at her lap.

He had prepared a bowl of oatmeal, garnished with fresh raspberries and a side of a tea that smelt divine. Madam Red felt her stomach turn, and she leaned back. "I don't feel much like eating." It was hard on her stomach to eat in the morning, but being sick made it worse.

Grell sighed, sitting on her bed, even when she had ordered him not to, and picked up the silver spoon beside her bowl of oatmeal. He scooped a small amount onto the spoon and held it to her mouth. "Say ah."

Madam Red felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance, but kept quiet.

The red head pouted childishly, "And I spent all that time slaving over that ghastly stove, surrounded by hundreds of mice and filthy dishes to make this for you."

Her eyebrow twitched, and she wondered if she should just eat the food, if it would make him stop blabbering.

"Maadddaaaaammmmm." He began to whine, and she couldn't stand it.

"Be quiet! I won't stand for such childish-"

She nearly gagged as the spoon was forcefully shoved into her mouth. He kept a smile on his face, seeming to enjoy watching her get angry.

"Eating this will help you get better, Madam." Reluctantly, Angelina did as she was told-which is something she scantly ever did- and ate the oatmeal. It was hard for the thick, pasty treat to go down, but she managed. Angelina frowned around the spoon, wishing he had at least added more sugar.

He clicked his tongue, "Oh don't give me that look. My oatmeal is delicious." The strange man giggled, "But you do look adorable, with that angry pout on your face." He scooped up some more oat meal onto the spoon, smiling, "Feeding you is rather fun."

Angelina ripped the spoon from his long fingers, "I can do it on my own." She grumbled, and began to eat. The oatmeal was good. It was a hell of a lot better than what she had been cooking for herself. Whatever wasn't burnt tasted like rubbish. Angelina was not skilled in the kitchen whatsoever.

He was quiet after that, and she began to grow self-conscious as she felt his green eyes on her as she ate. She looked up at him and sighed, "What is it?"

The reaper blushed, and stood, "Nothing at all!" He smiled, his blush fading.

She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, "You are very strange."

He gave her a small smile, and his eyes softened. "Yes, I am pretty odd."

She looked up at him, and couldn't help but notice the slightly sad look in his eye, and the way his smile faded. But as quickly as it had come, the sadness left, only to be replaced by a mischievous glint. "But not as strange as a woman who still keeps a diary at such an age." He sighed, producing a familiar diary from behind his back.

_Oh my god._

Angelina turned bright red, and she moved the tray off her lap quickly, nearly spilling her tea. "Give me that! It's private!" She tried to snatch the thick volume from his hand, but he was much taller than she was, and easily held it out of her grasp.

He flipped it open, and began to read it out loud, "Oh how my thoughts turn to him, even on my wedding night. How I long to see him smiling at me once again, and find myself yearning for his-" he was cut off by the woman stomping on his foot.

Grell yelped in pain, and she punched him rather hard in the stomach, making him gasp. She snatched the book from out of his hand and snapped it shut. "Get out of my room at once!"

Madam red had a feeling she had made a very bad decision

* * *

*collapses*


	3. Marionette

Dear Readers,

I'm enjoying writing this story, I love this pairing. I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit boring. I don't own anything, if I did than Hannah and Claude would be an item.

-Ramona

* * *

William T. Spears gazed down at his death ledger. He routinely did this at the end of every day, ensuring the quota had been made. Pushing his reaper spectacles up with his death scythe, he checked, and then double-checked the reapers reports. Everything seemed to be accounted for, all of the scheduled souls had been reaped- No wait, that wasn't right.

His acid green eyes skimmed the page. Searching for _that_ name, the name he knew all too well, much too well for his own liking.

_Grell Sutcliff._

That imbecile was the thirteenth reaper on the list of subordinates belonging to the twelfth district of London. Grell had been assigned a large sum of reaping's the night previous, and much to Williams surprise, he had reaped all of the souls he had been assigned.

Every last one of them.

His eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"This can't be right." He said to himself, his eyes roving over the ledger for a third time, just to make sure he was reading the correct name.

But alas, Grell Sutcliff had done his job.

Spears frowned. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't seen Grell at all that day. He was usually found running about head quarters trying to find methods to slack off and shrug off his responsibility. But most of the time he was usually bothering William, speaking gibberish to him with that motor mouth of his.

But William hadn't heard from him all day.

If he had been by himself, which he was not, William T. Spears would have got on his knees and thanked those above for finally releasing him of that red haired buffoon. But, William was not alone, and he refrained from doing something so unnecessarily dramatic and silently thanked those above in his head.

Closing the ledger, William slid it back to the reaper behind the counter, who was one of many in charge of the copious amount of death ledgers that were stored in that wing of the Reaper Library.

The young reaper gave William a nod, showing him respect, then stamped the inside of the book. This had to be done, to show that a high-ranking official of the Dispatch Management Division had checked it. Later, a new ledger would be sent to William, and the rest of the reapers over seeing districts. The ledgers contained the lists of those to die in the designated districts, and the dispatch officers were all given their required lists. The over seers job was to read over the ledgers belonging to his or her district, to make sure they had actually been doing their job accordingly.

William was just one of many Dispatch officers, and was assigned to the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth division in London. He only over saw three divisions, but he wished one day he would over see at least ten. His father over saw over fifty divisions, giving him a notorious reputation and honor to the Spears household, which was regarded highly among reapers.

So, now it was up to William to withhold the family name in reaper society.

But alas, he had come to find it difficult to live up to such honor with that clown in his division team.

Grell hardly ever did his job, and when he did, William always had to clean up after him or bail him out of trouble. It was entirely that blasted red heads fault for tarnishing his perfect record, and making the twelfth, eleventh and tenth divisions so behind in their reaping deadlines.

Sometimes, William didn't understand Grell. When they had first met, he had held a higher grade above him, and had been the top of his class. He had outstanding reaping skills, and the other students had looked up to him. He had always had a big mouth, but back then Grell Sutcliff was a feared reaper, one the others had learned to respect.

But now he was a complete joke. Walking around with that long hair of his, wearing make up and referring to himself as a lady. William had once been taught to honor and respect the Sutcliff name, his father telling him they were one of few powerful reaping families. Their lineage was impeccable, the Sutcliff clan becoming infamous among reaper legends.

His father had told him many tales, but his favorites had been about Grells family. The family's ancestry went back to the beginning or time, when the first reapers were born. His father told him of the Sutcliff who reaped the soul of Sampson, then the story of the Sutcliff who spoke with the angel Gabriel. He had been taught to hold the Sutcliff clan in high regard, and had been painted a glorious tapestry of the virtually royal family.

So when he was told he would be partnered with a Sutcliff, William was nearly speechless. But the person he had met…He was only half of what he had expected, and he was even more disappointed as time went on, and he began to out rank Grell as a reaper. He found it all disappointing really.

"So, did things turn out smoothly this month?" The young reaper asked, interrupting Williams's thoughts. The young man smiled at William, awaiting his response as he stocked the ledger onto one of the many shelves in the vast library, "I heard the twelfth division was having a hard time keeping up with the quota, and some deaths had to be put on schedule."

William didn't show it, but what the child said had struck a nerve. The division he over saw had a bad reputation, and rumors had begun to spread.

This was unacceptable.

Taking out his pocket watch, he glanced at the time before answering, "The souls have all been accounted for." He curtly replied, then snapped his watch shut and slipped it back in his breast pocket.

It was past six, and he was off duty.

William glanced at the reaper briefly, then made his way down the pristine white hallway, not bothering to say goodbye. The reaper flinched slightly, the stare from the man having been icy cold.

Momentarily he wondered if he should go check up on that fool, but he quickly decided against the idea. He couldn't stand to talk to Grell for more than a few minutes. To actually go looking for him would give the cretin the wrong impression.

No, he was sure nothing was wrong. Maybe Sutcliff had finally got his act together, and had come to terms with reality and had begun to do his job correctly. Perhaps he had even cut that ghastly long red hair of his and had stopped painting his nails long enough to actually get some work done.

Just thinking about him gave William a migraine, and as he entered an elevator he pushed up his spectacles with a sigh. He really hoped Grell wasn't up to something. Because if he were he would be in big trouble this time, and William wouldn't be able to bail him out. Family name only helped out so much, and Grell was already on thin ice.

_Why do I even bother helping that idiot?_

Pressing the button marked with a one, William placed his hands behind his back as the elevator began to move downward.

He would return back to his flat, take a shower, and then attempt to get a night of decent sleep. He would stop thinking about that idiot Grell and all the blunders he could be getting himself into. William would relax. Which was very hard for him.

The elevator doors opened, and William walked out into the lobby, passing by young recruits and fellow reapers.

A few nodded in his direction, but William just ignored them. He was off duty; there was no need for him to indulge in pleasantries.

He made his way out of the double doors, and onto the street. Sighing, he began walking home.

The reaper world was like the human realm, but at the same time, not. The streets looked like the streets of London. The reaper world was like a mirror image of the human world. There were places that resembled London, Paris, China, everything from the human world could be found there. But the reapers were more advanced, and had developed florescent lights and such.

The differences between the human world and reaper world varied. For example; everything was clean, as in, there was no rubbish thrown out in the streets. No one was sick or begging, and no one died.

No, that wasn't right. In a sense, reapers did die, but it wasn't the same as a human death. For when a reaper died, there was nothing left. There was no body. The death gods' body and soul would begin to glow, and they would vanish. They would go above, to where they had originated.

Or at least that's what he had been told, and raised to believe. William remembered when his grandfather had passed. He had been just a child. He and his family had sat around the old reaper whose time had come. It was rare to witness such an event, for reapers lives went on for centuries on end. Some reapers could choose to die, or to simply live forever. And in some cases, they would just die. His parents told him it could be educational to watch. Their grandfather had whispered to William and his cousins that he had lived for too long, and that he would be in a better place. His grandfather had seen the great flood, and the tower of babble. The worn reaper said that it was finally his time to rest, to go back to _"that glorious light." _

Rounding a corner, William pushed his glasses up once again.

William wasn't sure what to believe. He believed in what he saw. And he clearly remembered seeing his grandfather's body fade into a glowing light, which had slowly disappeared. But who's to say that his grandfather went up to some great light? What if he had just…vanished?

_Why am I thinking of this nonsense?_

Spears found himself standing on his stoop, and he decided to stop thinking about his grandfather. Reaching into his inner pocket, he pushed his key inside the lock, turning it slowly. He would go inside, shower, and then try to relax. He would force himself to relax.

The cold reaper couldn't help but pray that Sutcliff wasn't doing something incredibly reckless. But then again, this was Grell after all.

"Idiot."

Grell sneezed, "Oh my-" He blinked, and then suddenly sneezed again.

He had been dusting the fabulous crystal chandelier hovering over the grand staircase in his Lady Angelina's flat, when a thick cloud of dust flew onto his face. The reaper sneezed for a third time, and the latter teetered beneath his heels.

The reaper had cleaned nearly ever inch of her apartment, and now all that was left was the blasted chandelier.

"It would be a shame if you fell." Madam Red said dryly from the top of the stairs, and Grell couldn't help but detect the sarcasm in her voice. She had been cross with him since she had discovered he had read her entire diary, and that was how he had really learned about her horrible past. He had been over acting when he told her he had the power to know everything about her. Well, he actually did have the power, so it wasn't exactly a fib. But he hadn't returned to the reaper library to consult her Book of Life. He had spent his first night in the madams flat rummaging through her belongings like a proper lady, and then reading her entire diary until dawn. He had to admit, it was juicy. So much gossip! His goddess truly was a prima donna, her life filled with beautiful splashes of sorrow and heartbreak. Oh and the men she had been with! He couldn't help but write their names down on his to die list. Grell could not understand why any man would treat his lady in such a way. Men were truly pigs, and Grell would know.

"Really Madam, I already apologized a thousand times for reading your diary!" He pouted down at her, "But I just couldn't help myself! There I was, trying to find a decent tube of red lipstick in your vanity, when I saw it-"

"Why were you going through my vanity?" Madam Red interrupted, a permanent frown on her ruby lips.

The reaper paused, then continued dusting and chose to not answer her like a child.

If he told her that he was trying on her expensive dresses and was trying to finish the look with her finest red lipstick, she would have his head. Usually Grell loved to be punished, but his lady had already yelled him at so many times that day, he didn't want her to do anything rash. Like kick the ladder from under his feet.

"Not going to answer me, eh?" She lifted her skirt, and then began to walk down the stairs, heels clicking against the fine wood. "Fine, act like a child." He noticed she was holding a satchel, no doubt full of papers.

His cruel goddess was not only a skilled killer, but she was also a professional doctor. Wicked, talented, _and_ intelligent. Such a deadly combination, Grell couldn't help but swoon.

"Are you off to work now Madam?" He asked, dropping his feather duster and climbing down slowly. As a butler it was his job to tend to his lady's needs, and getting her to work on time was a necessity. True, Grell had no idea what he was doing as a butler, but he was actually trying. He found this to be a fun game, and as an actress he should play the part.

That, and he adored how she ordered him around.

"Yes, but I'll walk." She turned her nose in the air.

Grell pouted as he tried to quickly go down the stepladder without slipping, "But my lady it is such a far walk! And as your butler it is my job to-"

Angelina looked at him with a deadly glower, and he was pretty sure he heard her growl. "The last time you tried to take me to work you not only crashed the carriage into a tree, but you crashed it when it was pouring rain, and my new petticoat I had hand crafted from a designer from Paris was ruined when a carriage passed by and splashed me with filthy mud!"

Grell gulped, recalling the way Madam Red had nearly strangled him.

He admitted, he was not a great butler, but he was still learning! He wanted nothing more than to serve his beautiful lady, but all he did was make her angry with him. The reaper leaped off the ladder, landing on his feet gracefully and preceded to give her puppy dog eyes, even though she looked like she was ready to bite his head off.

"Please Madam! Give me one more chance! It isn't raining today, and I'm sure I won't crash. At least I hope I wont…" He trailed off, frowning to himself, "And that petticoat wasn't all that grand Madam, it hardly did you justice."

Angelina's eye twitched, "Listen reaper, I am in no mood to play your trivial games today. I am hung, and your chatter is giving me a sodding migraine. You truly are a pathetic excuse for a servant, and a god. Now get out of my way. I am going to be late, and I have to catch up on the work I missed from when I was sick." She flipped her new, short hair, which she had cut herself-Grell had nearly cried when she had come out of the lavatory, all of her long beautiful hair gone. But she had threatened to lop his hair off if he continued to whine about it- giving him a stare that would turn mortals into blocks of ice

Now, a normal person would have been angry, or even hurt by the words she had said. But Grell was not normal in the slightest, he felt his knees wobble as she told him off, and the way she flipped her hair caused his cheeks to heat up.

Such cruelty, such glamour and poise! She truly was the only lady for him.

"Oh my lovely lady, I do adore that cruel look in your eyes!" He was melting under her gaze, and couldn't stop himself from taking her gloved hand in his, stunning her into silence. Angelina's nose scrunched as she gave him a look, probably wondering what the devil was wrong with him.

He met her eyes as he placed a kiss on her delicate hand, and he watched in delight as color rose to her cheeks. "Please allow me to escort you Madam, I would hate if anything were to happen to you on the way. It's not safe for a lady to roam the streets alone." His smile turned into a grin, thinking of the irony behind his words.

Grell watched as she seemed to mull it over, and she pulled her hand back from his grasp, holding it to her chest as if she had been burned. His lady was stubborn, but he found he could easily put her into a tizzy, which delighted him to no end.

The reapers lips pulled into a grin. He had only been with her for a week, and he was still not tired of her. Everything she did affected him in a different way, and Grell was finding it harder and harder to stop himself from gazing at her. He sometimes watched her as she slept, admired her from afar as they ate breakfast, and he found he got frustrated at night when she combed her delicate fingers through her hair, sitting at her vanity in nothing but a silk robe.

A woman had never affected him in such a way before, and he certainly never found himself staring at a woman in such a way before. Sure, as a lad he had enjoyed to gawk along with his schoolmates. But as he matured, Grell found himself gushing over men. He did it mostly out of lust, and partially to annoy his parents. But Angelina…

_I've fallen head over heels for this picturesque woman, even if it is a doomed love. _

At first, his love for her was the love an artist would hold for his muse, for his inspiration. Grell found that when she killed, it made the reaping so much sweeter. When he watched as the red splattered all over her divine face, he couldn't stop the chills he got. Couldn't help himself from wanting to grab her, and do very unlady-like things with her. Over the course of the few weeks he had spent with her, as he watched her closely, Grell found his heart would flutter each time she said his name, his knees grown week if her hand accidentally brushed his own. He felt like he had been reverted back into an adolescent, and he was giddy all over again for a crush.

Sometimes he would even fantasize of her. Of doing those delectable, profane things with her in the dead of night, in numerous ways, positions and angles. Grell had never thought of himself as being the one in control in bed, he always loved to be dominated. Oh but when he thought of his lady, he wanted to command _her_.

When he lay in his room at night, and his thoughts turned to her and the acts he wanted to commit with her, Grell would try his hardest to resist.

Inwardly he sighed. He had always been keen to easily fall in love-or what he thought to be love. And every time he did, the one he had his eyes on would never return his feelings. Grell had never had someone love him in return, or show him the affection he secretly craved. But this was different from the mere crushes he had had before. When he thought of Angelina, his entire body was engulfed in a blaze. He felt as if he would perish if he were not with her.

And this terrified Grell.

He both loved and hated the devotion he felt for his lady. True, Grell liked to be commanded and controlled, but he could always detach himself from the ones he loved, so his emotions for them would not control him. But Grell was finding it hard not to become emotionally attached to his lady.

"Are you daft?"

The red head blinked, looking down to see his Angelina looking up at him with a frown.

"Oh I'm sorry my lady, were you calling to me-"

Angelina grabbed his ear and began to pull him out the door.

"Yes, and I said you could take me to the office. Now put on your disguise, I don't want anyone to see you as you are." She commanded, and Grell felt himself turn to jelly.

Grell decided he would just stop thinking of those depressing thoughts for now, and just enjoy the lady's company.

"Yes madam." He grinned, the charm washing over him, turning his brilliant hair into a chestnut brown, his gaudy glasses becoming plain, and his eyes turning a jade green. Putting on this human guise was something not every reaper could do, and was a special talent he had inherited from his descendants.

Angelina let go of his ear, looking up at him as they stood in the doorway. She frowned, then reached up and straightened his black tie, getting close to him as they stood outside.

It was a sunny day, which was rare in London. The birds were chirping in the trees, and the sun shone down from behind the few clouds, and hit Angelina's hair. Grell tried to contain a gasp as he watched the way it made her sparkle, how she looked just…so beautiful to him. He truly had never seen a creature like her before.

While she was focused on his tie, Grell looked at her with the softest of eyes. His smile was that of a man truly in love, and he couldn't help himself from blushing. He wanted to reach up and pet her hair, but he controlled himself.

"Really Grell, didn't anyone teach you how to correctly fasten a tie?" Angelina asked, smoothing out the cloth then turning her eyes up to his, raising an eyebrow when she saw his blush. As always, the lady was oblivious to his affections. That or she loved to drive him crazy.

Grell could not help but look down at her lips. Oh how he wanted to grab her beautiful face in his hands, and kiss her.

_Get a hold of yourself Grell! A lady shouldn't think of such beastly things._

He blinked down at her, his nervousness getting the better of him in his human guise, "Ah well, actually, n-no. I had to teach myself." He rubbed the back of his neck, and Angelina gave him an odd look.

_Stop looking at her lips. Stop looking at her lips. Stop looking at-_

"Well, from now on I shall tie your tie. I won't have my butler looking a mess, understood?"

He bowed his head, "Yes Madam."

"And tie back that hair, it's unbecoming."

"Oh! Y-yes." Grell reached back and fastened his shorter hair, pulling it into a simple ponytail.

The reaper looked down at his lady, his expression nervous while awaiting her instructions. Angelina's demeanor went from cold, to amused as she began to chuckle.

"Well, you certainly are a fine actor."

Grell frowned, "Actress." He corrected, breaking out of character momentarily.

Madam Red rolled her eyes, turning and carefully lifting her skirt as she walked down the stone steps. "Male, female. I don't care as long as you can get me to work without killing me in the process."

Grinning, Grell spun on his heels and shut the door, locking it and placing the spare key in his pocket for safe keeping. He turned back to his lady, putting up his façade once more.

"Now, where's the damn carriage Grell, do you expect me to just-"

The carriage, along with a rather terrified horse, was suddenly before Angelina. The reaper in disguise sat holding onto the reigns and looking down at her expectantly, as if he had been there the entire time.

"What…"

He inwardly grinned when he saw the look on Angelina's face. She was rather stunned, since the carriage had appeared from thin air. Actually, he had merely moved at an inhuman speed, lifting the carriage and placing it there. The horse had protested, but he gave it a cold glare and it had kneeled to him, terrified of the reaper.

"Well Madam?" Grell asked nervously.

Madam Red held her nose in the air, shaking off her surprise.

"I'm waiting for someone to open the door for me."

He nearly got a nosebleed, but controlled himself. "Y-yes Madam." He moved off the carriage, tripping and falling on his face. He righted himself and apologized numerous times, passerby gawking at him as he dusted himself off and held the door open for Angelina. To them, he appeared to be an incompetent butler, and nothing more. Never would they suspect he was actual a death god assisting a cruel doctor kill filthy street whores.

He grinned. That was the beauty of it. No one would ever suspect them.

Before he shut the door for her, he caught glimpse of the small smile on his lady's face. It wasn't a scowl, or a frown. But she held a small smile as she watched him, and Grells glasses began to fog.

_I've fallen so hard._

* * *

"Oh Dr. Durless, I'm so happy to see you!" Mary Ann smiled, looking up from the cot, smiling as Angelina walked in.

The girl was no older then twenty, and already her stomach was as round and solid as a watermelon. But she was still quite beautiful, having long, strawberry blond hair and lovely brown eyes. Angelina had taken to her right away, and she couldn't help the smile she gave the young girl as she came to her side.

"I missed you while you were sick, Dr. Moore is…" The youthful patient trailed off, looking away.

Angelina snickered, "He's a lecherous old man. I swear he's _accidentally_ brushed against me numerous times." She smiled and sat beside the cot, pushing up her glasses as Mary Ann laughed.

Mary Ann was nine months pregnant, and had been going to Angelina from the beginning of her pregnancy. She had married into a wealthy family, and was head over heals for her husband, who had come to meet Angelina personally before his wife had started seeing her. This had impressed Angelina, since most of the husbands of her patients rarely showed their faces to her.

Madam Red was one of few female doctors in London; she specialized mainly in prenatal medicine, and had delivered copious amounts of babies in her lifetime. But her line of work had its pros and cons. The good side to being a prenatal doctor was that Angelina was able to help pregnant woman give birth to beautiful babies, ensuring they were both happy. The cruel side being that once in a while, a street whore would wander into her office, requesting for Angelina to rip out the life she coveted so preciously.

Each time Angelina would preform the operation, she felt like a murderer. She found this ironic, for when she was slicing into the filthy wenches, she felt nothing like a murderer. In fact, she felt like a conqueror of the wicked. Like a guillotine lopping off the heads of indecent vermin.

But each time she would cut that small, budding child out of those unappreciative women…Angelina wanted to die, because then she actually felt like a murderer. She wished at that moment that she had died in that carriage accident, and that her baby had lived. Angelina would give anything for that.

"Now, let's take a look at you," The red head smiled, sliding on the stool and leaning over to touch Mary Ann's stomach. "My you're getting big." She mused, smiling when the girl blushed.

"Richard says I look like I've swallowed an elephant." The fair skinned girl gave a small pout, but then a warm smile came to her lips. "I'm so excited Dr. Durless, Richard and I have already picked out names."

Angelina felt her heart clench, but she managed to keep her smile in place.

"That's wonderful dear," She lifted her gown and checked the girls skin, making sure her skin wasn't tearing as Mary Ann told her the baby names she had insisted on.

It was hard for her, to see this. To see someone who was going to have a child, someone who was able. But Angelina did not hate Mary Ann. No, she was merely jealous. Like a child would be of another who had a toy they didn't. Angelina felt like a child, constantly. She felt like she was being selfish. And she hated herself for being so desirous of Mary Ann, or her other patients.

"…And then Richard told me the oddest name, Grell."

Madam's head lifted, and she blinked at her.

"Grell?"

Mary gave her a nod, and giggled, "Strange isn't it? But I actually sort of like it. What do you think of it?"

Madam Red could not refrain from the frown her red mouth pulled into, and Mary blinked at her, worried she had said something wrong.

"No, definitely not that name. Only imbecilic pests have a name as silly as that." Madam said harshly, scaring Mary slightly.

Angelina narrowed her eyes and continued to inspect her, thinking of that stupid butler of hers.

That wretch had not only been the cause of several house fires, but had also ruined numerous dresses of hers. She had walked in on him trying on a pair of her finest fishnets, and had found several of her lipsticks missing.

Angelina had plenty of male friends who partook in such delights, many of them referring to themselves as females. Madam Red had those kinds of friends, the kind that many people would look down on. Yes, she came from a respectable family, and was sought to be a refined woman, but that didn't necessarily mean she had to be friends with her fellow blue bloods. No, Angelina preferred to be with people who were colorful, people who were exciting.

So, Grell dressing as a woman didn't bother her. Angelina didn't care what he did whatsoever. But when it was _her_ clothes, and _her_ lipstick, that's where she drew the line.

And then there was the way he fawned over her, calling her all sorts of names, giving her compliments. If she had a pound for every time he described her as _beautiful_, _lovely_, or _divine_, she would be richer than Victoria herself.

Every woman secretly loved to be complimented, but Madam Red knew that wasn't how he truly felt. He was merely using her as a form of entertainment. He had told her many times she was an actress in the most spectacular play he had ever seen, and that he had fun playing with her. Madam Red was no more than a doll in the manic grim reapers games. A marionette pulled by his deadly strings.

_But then…_

But then why did he stare at her in such ways, when he thought she wasn't looking? Why did he look at her with such soft, venerable eyes? Angelina had only ever been looked at like that by one person; Rachel.

Grell looked at her like her sister had. Like he was really looking at her. Was admiring her with love and devotion, the kind of love you only found in fairy tales.

Angelina had never found a love like that. She had thought she had it with Vincent, but he had loved her sister. And her husband, she had loved him. But had not really _loved _him. Had not fallen in love with him.

Her eyes saddened as she pulled down Mary Ann's gown, her hand sliding to her lap.

The reaper was so hard to read. She couldn't tell if what he claimed to feel for her was true, or if it was just an act. He claimed to be a wonderful performer and Angelina was finding herself falling for his charade.

When he took her hand, of looked at her with those venomous eyes…

Placing a hand to her chest, over her heart, Madam Red's cheeks heated just thinking about it. The way those eyes would lock with hers, would stare into her so deeply she felt like she was under a spot light, and she was center stage. Angelina felt like she was the only thing he could see, and she was being given his complete attention.

But then, she would remind herself that the love Grell had for her was nothing more than the love a child would have for a doll, or a pet. She was nothing but a bird locked in a cage, one you watch and admire, but don't set free.

"Two weeks," She looked up from her papers, smiling at Mary Ann, who had changed into her dress. "You're due in two weeks time." Madam stood, hugging the girl who had reached out for her.

"You're an angel Angelina," Mary Ann said softly, "Truly you are."

Angelina couldn't stop the tear that fell from her eye.

Quickly, she withdrew from the girl, smiling as she walked out of her office. When she was alone, Angelina slumped onto the couch, placing her face in her hands as she began to cry.

"No, I'm not," She sniffed, wiping at her eyes, "I'm not."

She wasn't an angel. Angelina knew she was nothing more than a villain, killing innocent children and allowing herself to live. She lived when all those other children could not, and she hated herself for it.

But the reason why she was crying, why she was sobbing and felt like she was completely broken was because she realized she would never truly be loved. Selfish, yes, but the moment she truly realized it, Madam Red couldn't help but crumble.

Happy endings were only found in fairy tales. Not every princess is destined to find a prince, isn't meant to play out the happy ending and live happily ever after. She would simply live, or live miserably. Angelina knew that she would spend the rest of her life pretending like she was actually living, when inside, she knew she was really empty and dead.

Angelina Durless had no one. Not a single person. She was entirely alone in the harsh world she found herself in, and the thought terrified her.

And then, she felt a hand covering her own, while another pet her hair gently.

Angelina chocked back a sob when she met his eyes, that special green making her feel like she was in a dream.

"Shh shh dear, I'm here now," He soothed, his voice nothing more than a soft purr. "What's wrong darling?"

Angelina could not answer. She merely shook her head at him, covering her face and feeling ashamed. She hadn't cried in a very long time, not since that day, and for someone to see her like this…she would rather die than be seen in such a state.

Grell gently pushed her hands from her face. He cupped her cheeks with his hands, whipping away her falling tears with his thumbs. He had taken his gloves off, along with his disguise. Now the grim reaper looked at her, comforted her., not the butler The real Grell was there, drying her tears. He had come from thin air, had appeared before her when she most needed it.

_How did he know?_

Finally, Angelina was able to talk, "H-how d-did you…?" She hiccupped.

"I'm always near, Madam," Grell smiled warmly, "If I wasn't, then who would dry your tears?"

A sob leaked from her, more tears dripped down her pale cheeks.

It had been so long, so long since someone had dried her tears. Had been so long since someone had comforted her while she cried, that she felt an immense happiness. Angelina knew she was being selfish, knew she was acting like a spoiled child…and yet, she didn't care.

She wanted this.

She needed to feel warmth; she desperately desired to be loved.

Madam Red was like a flower deprived of the sun, wilting and falling to pieces. All of her light had been stolen, and she had been locked in a dark room.

But Grell was her light now.

"Tell me what you desire Angelina," He murmured, leaning in and kissing her temple so gently, like he feared she would break beneath his lips.

"H-home," She mumbled, "I w-want to go home, G-Grell," She looked at him through her watering eyes, vision blurred, "Please-"

Arms enveloped her, pulling her close to him as he effortlessly lifted her into a protective embrace. She nestled her face into the crook of Grells neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and crying softly.

"Don't worry Madam," He whispered in her hair, "We'll be home soon."

The window in her office opened, and suddenly Angelina was flying. Grell pushed himself off the ground, and she looked around briefly as they were suspended mid air. The people in the narrow streets below didn't look up as Grell and Angelina soundlessly leaped onto a nearby roof, didn't bother to notice them.

Then they were moving so quickly, everything around them began to blur. All the while Angelina had her face in the crook of her reapers neck, arms clutching to him tightly like a child.

She didn't care if she was a marionette. Didn't care if she had strings sticking out from her back, and that sooner or later she would be thrown away like a useless doll. Even if all the love and affection he gave her was all an act, Angelina would let it go on.

Angelina clung to the red haired man, unaware that he was smiling.

"Don't leave." She whispered, closing her eyes tight.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Yes, he did kiss her temple~ if i made some grammar mistakes I'm sorry -_-; it's really late.


	4. Where is my mind?

Dear Readers,

This is probably the shortest chapter I've ever written in my entire life ._. I don;t own anything, if I did Sebastian would be naked during the whole series.

-Ramona

* * *

_Where is my mind?_

Grell inhaled her scent deeply, his eyes closing as that smell flooded his senses. Oh lights above, how he could dive into her for all eternity. She smelt of roses and spice, the scent making his mouth water. He was coming undone at the seams.

If Angelina had a problem with Grell sitting on her bed, she surely didn't have a problem now. The crying woman had nearly ripped his dress shirt as she pulled him down with her, ordering him to hold her until she fell asleep.

Grell was more than okay with this.

In fact, he was sure he was in heaven right now-or at least what he imagined heaven to be like. Growing up, he had been taught that heaven was nothing more than a light above them, and that those above were awaiting him when he chose to pass. Grell didn't think much of the heaven reapers looked forward to.

The heaven he was in was a heaven with only he and his Madam.

His beautiful lady was lying against his chest, curled up against the red head.

Holding her closely, the reaper smoothed out her hair as he whispered gentle, soothing words to the tearful woman. He didn't understand what had made her upset, for she still wouldn't tell him. But Grell would do anything to ease his lady's troubles, and if she wanted him to sleep in her bed…well he _definitely_ would not deny her.

_Oh what a disgusting pig I am! Having such horrible thoughts while my Angelina is crying! I should be burned at the stake. A lady shouldn't have such thoughts!_

He had done an excellent job controlling his primal urges, taking care not to gawk as he dressed the lady in a long, white Egyptian cotton nightgown. It had taken a lot out of him, but he had somehow managed not to pounce on her when she looked up at him with big, childish eyes, asking him to sleep with her. Like the pig he was, when she said sleep, his mind instantly conjured up filthy, obscene images.

_I am truly disgusting. _

"Grell?" Angelina spoke softly, her voice tired from crying.

"Yes my lady?" He secured his arm around her shoulders, and she nestled into him, a small sigh escaping her. Grell felt his cheeks heat up, but he remained calm.

"I'm," He heard her hesitate for a moment, "I apologize for being so rude to you."

Grell blinked, her words genuinely surprising him. The reaper let out an entertained chuckle, rubbing the soft skin of her arm affectionately as he kissed her hair.

"I never took offense to it my lady," He smiled to himself, finding her entertaining, "I understand that you're tense, and having someone as irritating as I can be tiring at times."

Angelina pulled back to look at him, "No! That's not it," She looked him in the eye, and she began to blush, "What I mean is…" Angelina hurriedly looked down, and Grells ears perked. A knowing grin formed on his lips, and he couldn't help but run a finger on his ladies cheek.

"Why is my lady so flustered?" He asked, watching her closely and observing how her cheeks continued to flush with color. Grells smirk didn't fade, only increased as he noticed the effect he was having on the human woman.

This was his chance. His chance to see if there was any possible way his divine goddess could have any feelings for him. If this living, breathing creature could possibly love a harbinger of death.

"What I mean is, you're not irritating," She continued as she played with his tie, trying to distract herself. Her antics were delightful to the reaper, and he chuckled at her.

"You're evading my question Angelina," His voice was easygoing, just a purr.

Grell looked at her like a predator would its prey, feeling how hard her heart was beating as he gazed upon her. Grell leaned in, whispering in her ear, "Do you fancy me, Madam Red?" Grell let his hand travel from her arm, to in between her shoulder blades, "Because I surely fancy you."

Hearing her gasp, Grell took this as an opportunity to gracefully pull her onto his chest, wrapping his slender arms around her back and looking up at her as he laid back. His hair fanned around him, and he had a soft smile on his lips and he looked at his lady's surprised face with gentle eyes.

Angelina was obviously flustered, for she was looking down at him with wide, crimson eyes, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink and her lips parted, the words just not coming out. Grell knew he had her. If she hadn't wanted him, she would have pulled away, would have yelled at him.

The thought of the beautiful, pristine lady he adored so much having feelings for him made his heart race, made him want to sing or dance. His eyes light up as he watched her, loving how nervous he had made her by hardly doing anything at all.

"My lady, I've seen you flirt with many men," He teased, "And yet you can't answer me?" Grell mocked a pout, "You're hurting my feelings Ann."

Oh, that did it! Her entire face turned red when he called her Ann, and Grell snickered. "Alright, then I'll talk," He said, running his hands through her hair, loving the feel of it between his fingers.

"I love you." The words flew from his lips, and Grell felt his heart clench as he watched the many emotions flow over his loves face.

Angelina stared down at him in disbelief, and to his surprise, she gave a small frown, averting her eyes as she blushed. "Liar."

Grell blinked. "Excuse me?"

Angelina's face became a mixture between embarrassment and anger, and she tried to lift herself up, but Grell held her firmly in place. "J-just, stop toying with me!" She hissed, and Grell couldn't help but stare at her, "I know I'm nothing more than a…than a doll to you!" She pulled back finally, for his grip as loosened when he heard her words.

_A doll…?_

Grells heart sank as he saw the tears on the brims of her eyes.

A doll? If that what he truly believed, that he thought of her as a toy?

"I k-know that…if I stop killing, if I stop entertaining you," Her voice broke, and she picked up a pillow, hitting him with it, "You'll just leave. Like everyone else. And once again, I'll be all alone. And I…I Don't want you to leave. I w-want you to stay here," His heart clenched once more, her words like a vice, "I know I'm being selfish, I'm acting like a spoiled child. B-but I can't…I don't want you to go. And i-if you say things like that, it's only going to make it harder. Because when you leave…"

The reaper couldn't see her, for the pillow was now shoved in his face. But he was sure she was crying. Her words made him want to cry as well, but Grell controlled himself. He closed his eyes, listening to her voice as it quivered, how she was pouring herself out to him at that moment.

"I know you're j-just telling me that to make the play more interesting, to make it more fun."

Moving the pillow from his face, Grell looked up at her with soft eyes, his smile gone. Angelina straddled his waist, rubbing her eyes as tears fell again. The red haired man made a clicking sound with his tongue, sitting up slowly. His hair fell loosely down his back, and he looked down at her with a kind smile.

"Honestly now, all these tears, wasted on a wretch like me," His voice was barely above a whisper. He bowed his head, bangs falling in his eyes, "My dearest, you are wrong."

Madam Red stilled.

"I don't love you because you're entertaining, well no, wait that's a lie…you are entertaining, but it's not the reason why I love you" The reaper was opening his heart to her, something he had never done with anyone. He was tripping over his words like a boy, feeling nervousness wash over him. Grell kept his heart closed off, even to those he had thought he had really loved. But he was opening it for Angelina. "Angelina I…I have never felt this way about…anyone before." Grell was finding it hard to talk, his words becoming difficult to express.

Looking up at him, Angelina's full attention was on the reaper, and he felt like he was under a spot light. Gulping, he blushed, "I fell head over heals for you the moment I saw you, and I have continued to fall since then. Every day I have watched you," He watched as she blushed, and he himself couldn't stop his cheeks from darkening, "And day after day, my heart continued to beat only for you."

Angelina was stunned into silence, and Grell placed a hand on her cheek.

"I love you so Angelina…My beautiful lady." His voice became soft as he stared into her eyes, not being able to contain his sweet nothings.

Angelina's small hand rose to gently touch his, nuzzling his hand affectionately.

"You do?" She asked, voice soft as she closed her eyes.

The death gods' heart swelled, and he leaned in, kissing wherever his lips could reach. Grell placed soft, loving pecks to her forehead, temple, even her eyelids. "You are more precious to me than anything else," He whispered between kisses, and the reaper could feel Angelina begin to melt in his hands. "I want no one else but you, my sweet, darling Angelina."

Madam Red quivered beneath his lips, tears running down her soft cheeks. In happiness, or sorrow, he couldn't be sure.

Grell kissed at her tears, and then found her lips. Eagerly, he kissed her, feeling as if a damn had been released.

_This is like heaven._

Angelina's mouth was as smooth as velvet, and she tasted so sweet to the reaper, it was like eating candy. He cupped her cheeks as he pressed his lips to hers passionately. Angelina was still for a moment, then to his surprise she let out a soft moan.

She was toying with him, she must have known the sound she had made would drive him wild.

The noise went right down his spine, and he groaned into her mouth, not being able to control himself as his lady began to kiss him back. Their passionate kiss quickly turned heated, hungry, and he felt his darling Angelina pull at his hair, tugging him close as she kissed him back.

Boldly, Angelina leaned Grell back so he was laying down once more, his hands moving from the sides of her face to her curvaceous hips as their lips locked together tightly. His lady whimpered as his hands gripped tightly into her flesh, and Grell growled in return, the feel of her beneath his hands driving him wild.

Swiping his tongue across her bottom lip, Grell made his lady gasp, and he used that as an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Angelina mewled as his skilled tongue explored her, and Grell felt his member harden, as he tasted her. The reapers fair skin flushed, and he was nothing more than a quivering mess beneath her, grasping at her eagerly.

Effortlessly, he flipped her over, the action instinctual to the reaper. Normally, when he had sex, he was at the receiving end, letting his partner take control of him. But he was in control of his lady.

Their lips never parted, the battle for dominance waging as Grell hovered over her, propping himself up with his elbow and using his free hand to slide down her body. His long, elegant fingers played down her hips, tickling his lady slightly and causing her to squirm against him as those fingers hooked into her dress. The reaper slowly began to pull her dress up, earning another moan from Angelina. Her lips parted from his, gasping for breath as Grell looked down at her with a grin.

"Angelina my flower," He whispered to her, diving down to nip at her ear, licking her neck slowly and making Angelina gasp. Oh, he liked that. Grell licked up to her ear as his fingers danced along the skin of her thigh. "My sweet lady…"

Small hands moved to his shoulders, and instead of pushing him back, she began to tug at his white shirt, gripping his shoulders and whimpering. He chuckled, "I'm hardly doing anything my lady, and you're this excited?" He leaned back, grinning down at her and feeling his member throb almost painfully when he saw the look on her face.

Her lips were parted, and she had begun to pant, her eyes fogged over with lust as her cheeks turned a dark red. Angelina looked up at him, obviously embarrassed and flustered. Grell licked his lips.

"Do you want me, madam?" He asked, voice dripping with lust as he slowly began to move down her body.

"Y-yes…" She licked her red lips, awaiting his neck move and wiggling beneath him.

His lady's eyes became confused as he moved down, and she obviously didn't know what he was doing. Grells eyes were dangerous now as they wandered over her body. He had never felt such a lust before in his entire life, certainty not for other woman.

"I apologize for this my love, but seeing you like this…" His voice trailed off as he ran a long, red nail down the tie to her gown. He slowly began to rip at the garment, "But seeing you in such a state has made me dreadfully impatient."

Tearing through the gown like tissue paper, Madam red was now completely exposed to him, only wearing a thin, red pair of dainty bloomers.

"Grell! This was one of my favorite night gowns!" Madam Red snapped, turning even redder as she went to cover herself.

Grabbing her wrist, he locked eyes with her as he pushed her arms over her head. Angelina instantly became quiet; Grell slowly dragged his tongue around his bottom lip. "I'll buy you a new one," He mumbled, "Now hush and enjoy yourself."

He never knew being commanding could be enjoyable, but Grell found he was extremely aroused now as he looked down at his lady, her breasts bare before him, the smooth skin of her stomach and her slender legs enticing him.

"So lovely," He whispered, slowly letting go of her wrists as he dipped his head down, his devilish tongue dragging over her collarbone, tasting her flesh like she was a fine dessert. Angelina gasped, her hands going to his fine hair, tugging gently, only arousing him more.

"G-Grell…" She mumbled, and he suppressed a moan, loving how Angelina said his name in such a labored, wanton tone. Oh how he wanted to make her scream his name, make her beg.

Trailing his tongue down, he began to kiss at her soft skin, leaning back and admiring her large breasts, cupping them in his large hands and squeezing, eliciting more delectable moans from his Angelina.

Grell never suspected that touching a woman's breasts would have such an effect on him. But oh, how he loved the feel of Madam Red's breasts between his hands. He watched with delight as the light rosy buds perked under his touch, and he looked up at her as he flicked his tongue out across her nipple. Angelina whined, her legs spreading beneath him as she wriggled.

"Grell! Stop your t-teasing…" She looked down at him with wanting, pleading eyes, and Grell enclosed his mouth around her bud in response, sucking eagerly and making Angelina cry out. Her hands fisted in his hair as his mouth cleverly worked, his other hand kneading her opposite breast.

His member was digging into her inner thigh now, and Grell couldn't help the animalistic groan that escaped the back of his throat as he began to slowly grind against her, his sharp teeth lightly nipping at her bud. He felt like a dirty man, nothing like the lady he had prided himself in being. But it just felt _so good._

Madam Red's voice grew louder and louder as Grell worked on her, his skilled tongue rolling over her bud, then his mouth sucking hard enough to make her gasp. He pulled his lips back with a pop, blowing on her raw nipple, making it harden once more. He switched over to her other breast, giving it the same treatment, then kneading her other breast. Grell pinched her abused nipple with his fingers as he sucked the one in his mouth. He began to purr like a cat, the sound coming deep from the back of his throat as his eyes closed tightly.

He never imagined it could be like this, especially not with a woman.

"D-dammit Grell…Please," Angelina gasped, her back arching as she shuddered.

His hand snaked down from her breast to her bloomers, and he cupped her heat possessively, making Angelina shudder and cry out once more. She felt so hot beneath his fingers, Grell found that he was somehow getting even more turned on.

Before meeting Angelina, the thought of sleeping with a woman would have made him gag. But there he was, sucking on this human woman's breast and nearly ripping her bloomers to get at the prize beneath. He supposed even though he considered himself a respectable lady, he was no more than a man beneath.

Finally, his mouth moved off her, the skin surrounding the lovely pink bud red and raw, small specks of blood pooling from the places his teeth accidentally brushed against.

"Grell," She panted, "P-please, I need it."

He looked up at her with burning yellow-green eyes as he swiftly moved down her quivering body, tossing her tattered bloomers aside. "Need what?"

Her eyebrows pulled together, "D-don't be cruel Grell-" She nearly screamed as one of his long fingers ran across the slit of the slick juncture between her legs.

Being a novice to this, Grell was going by sheer instinct; touching what he thought would make her feel good. But how he reveled in hearing her scream. He wanted her to beg. He wanted to make her go wild before he ravished her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." The reaper teased, kissing along her hip as his fingers experimentally began to rub a nub they had come in contact with.

As soon as he touched it, the red haired woman's body nearly jumped off the bed, making Grells eyes widen. Her mouth fell open as her eyes closed tightly, the hands that were in his hair pulling his locks roughly as she drew her legs up.

_Alright, what did I just do?_

Grell really had no idea what was going on, and he moved down to look at what he had just touched, his face turning red as he came face to face with…Well, with what was between his madams legs.

Being a grown man, one would think Grell knew what a woman's privates looked like. But, alas, Grell had never seen such a thing in his life.

He had heard it described as a flower by his classmates in grade school, as they drooled over an anatomy book in the boys room they had stolen from a biology classroom. Grell had remembered looking over, asking to see, and one of the boys told him to go away, and that _"You probably wouldn't like it." _

Oddly enough, he did. True, the sight was a bit jarring for the reaper, but it wasn't unpleasant. He did however feel like a ten year old seeing a pair of breasts for the first time.

_Okay, now how does it work?_

The thing he had touched was a…Well, a nub of sorts. It was above…what appeared to be a hole of sorts-or was it an entrance? - Which was leaking a sticky, sweet smelling, clear fluid. The inside of her lips were a rather adorable pink, and Grells nose nearly bled as he saw the lovely red shade of the hair surrounding it. His heart began to race with nervousness.

_Oh god! What do I do now? Do I keep rubbing this? But what do I do after that? I can't just keep rubbing it! I know there has to be more to it!_

He began to panic, he hadn't thought this far ahead.

"Grell?"

The reaper, whose glasses had immensely fogged up, looked up from between his lady's legs. He looked like he was about to have an aneurism, and Angelina blinked down at him. She was still trying to breath normally, and sweat dripped down her cheek.

"Do you…Do you know what you're doing?"

It was like a knife to the reapers heart.

Here he was, his face between the most beautiful woman in the world's legs, and he had no clue what he was doing. Grell felt like he should be wearing a dunce hat while be sitting in the corner of a class room, while grown men laughed and pointed at him for being so naïve.

"W-well I…"

He had failed! He had so miserably failed!

He wanted to fall on a sword! To run away and throw himself off a cliff! The look the woman he loved was giving him! Oh Grell had never felt such embarrassment in all his days.

"Grell..." Angelina sat up, chuckling "It's alright. We can stop if you want. It's getting late anyway, and I have a busy schedule tomorrow."

_Oh god! I've blown it!_

"But I want to! I just-"

She held up a hand, "Really, it's quite alright."

_**Oh. My. God.**_

Gradually, Grell felt his pride diminishing, his ego plunging into oblivion as Angelina smiled down at him, as if to say, "Thanks for nothing."

Angelina looked down at herself, "I suppose I should put something on. I might get sick again…" She said to no one in particular, and then blushed, looking down and seeing he was still between her legs, his expression blank.

Grell was in complete shock, mortified and humiliated. There he was, his face literally between her legs, and he didn't know what to do. He had brought her so close to the edge! Had made her scream his name and beg him to take her. And the stupid fool had frozen up! His erection was still throbbing painfully in his pants, and he was sure his lady was just putting on a kind face. He knew how women could be!

_Oh dear lord, she's probably furious with me!_

He looked like he was about to cry, and Angelina blinked.

"Grell? Are you oka-"

"No! No I'm not!" He cried out, being insanely over dramatic as he moved back, looking at her with the biggest of eyes, "I'm nothing but…But a school boy!"

For the first time in his entire life, his pride as a man was bruised. No, not bruised. He felt as if it had been sliced in half with a sickle. He had always prided himself on being able to please a man in bed, had even thought of himself as a sexual beast!

If his Lady Angelina had been a man, Grell would have known exactly what to do. He would have done so many incredible things, she would never think of another man again! Never again!

Grell was in perpetual shock, curling up on the bed as Angelina stared down at him. He thought of how Angelina would call up her girlfriends, telling them how he had excited her, and then so horribly stopped, and hadn't known what to do! She probably thought he was terrible in bed now!

Oh the shame!

Angelina got up, shaking her head and going to her bureau as Grell curled up on her bed, shaking. "Honestly Grell, sometimes I don't now why I bother loving an idiot like you." She muttered to herself, slipping on a fresh pair of bloomers.

The red haired reapers ears perked when he heard her words, and he sat up, watching her with a blush as she stood in nothing but an adorable pair of bloomers. His heart swelled, and he sniffled as a tear slid down his cheek.

"You love me even though I'm a pathetic excuse for a man and I'm terrible in bed?" He blubbered to Angelina, who just rolled her eyes and brushed out her hair.

"Miraculously, yes."

He only sobbed harder, "You really think I'm terrible!"

"Just shut up already!" She snapped, her eyebrow twitching as she hissed at him, still just in bloomers. "I'm already getting a migraine! Now you can either stay here and sleep with me for the night, or just go away! I'm exhausted and your prattle is getting on my nerves."

Grell hugged a pillow to himself and continued to pout, "You're so cruel to me! And you claim to love me!"

Angelina tossed the sterling silver hairbrush at the infuriating man, hitting him square in the face. He fell back with a whimper, and she pointed to the door, "Get out Grell! Now!"

He looked back up at her, glasses askew and his nose bleeding. "But my precious flower-"

"Out." Her eyes narrowed coldly.

Grell whimpered as his topless angel grabbed his ear in a tight, motherly grip, pulling him out of her room and slamming the door as he fell into the hall. He sniffed, scratching on the door like a cat, hearing his cruel beauty locking it on the other side.

"Angelina! Please! I'll stay quiet!" He begged, looking absolutely pathetic as he laid his face on the door, whining loudly.

"Goodnight!" She yelled from the other side of the door, her voice muffled.

"Are you angry because I don't know how to have sex, or because I'm annoying?" He asked, pouting up at the door.

It was quiet, and he continued to stare up at the door for fifteen more minutes before he realized she was ignoring him. Oh she was so cruel to him!

But of course, that was one of the reasons why he loved her.

Grell blinked, blushing.

He had done it. He had confessed to his cruel, beautiful woman.

_And she...loves me…_

Grells smile went from happy to manic in a mere second. He jumped to his feet and span on is heals. "Goodnight my love!" He yelled at her door, jumping high in the air like a child and doing a dance, twirling around the dark halls like a flamboyant, red haired ballerina.

"She loves me, she loves me, and she loves me!" He sang, twirling and basking in the glow of love. He never thought he would ever find love, never in all his days.

Grell also couldn't believe that he had fallen in love with a human. A human woman no less.

"Ah, but love works in mysterious ways!" He giggled to himself like a schoolgirl, going to his room and falling on his bed. He giggled once more, rolling around and looking up at the ceiling.

He saw her face as he stared into oblivion, saw he sprawled out beneath him, heard her gasping for him to continue. God, how he had wanted her. Grell rolled onto his stomach, whimpering into the mattress.

"I am an idiot." He whined.

Rolling back over onto his back, he sat up quickly, a frown on his face. "No! I must be better! Angelina deserves the best!" Grell stood, his eyes bright as he clapped his hands. Going to his vanity, he crossed his legs and looked at his reflection, flicking on a lamp and smiling.

"I'll do research! I'll be come a beast in bed! A true animal that can ravish my fine lady!" He took off his fake eyelashes, then began to brush out his long hair, humming to himself.

Oh, he could see it now! He would woe Angelina, whisk her off her feat! And when he came face to face with her flower again, he would conquer it! She was indeed a prize worth winning, and Grell would go through any means necessary to have her.

Even if it meant cutting off all his hair, and never wearing make up again. Grell Sutcliff would do it.

Staring at his reflection, he sighed to himself, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hand as he looked into his mirror.

"Where is my mind?" The reaper asked, his grin still in place.

* * *

So...yeah.


	5. Rage

Dear Readers,

Sorry this chapter took so long. There's some triggering stuff in this, so be prepared. I want to clarify something: Grell is attracted to men, **_but_** he also finds Madam Red attractive. Therefor, his sexuality is unknown. He isn't pansexual, bisexual, or homosexual. You guys can interpret that anyway you want. I don't own anything: if I did there would have been sex.

-Ramona

* * *

"Sit up straight," Iris snapped, her heals smacking against the grand wooden floors as she rounded the classroom, inspecting the children, who all wore matching black school uniforms and sported spectacles. Their strange, identical green eyes followed the teacher as she walked around the room, her hands folded firmly behind her back.

One of her eyebrows rose. Stopping, the woman looked down at a crown of vibrant red hair. He was rather small, frailer than the other boys and his face was fair. Peering over the top of his head, she saw he had his small hands in his lap, and he was twiddling his thumbs quite nervously.

"Stop that fidgeting." She hissed, and the red haired boy shuddered, sitting up straight and stopping the movement of his fingers. The other children suppressed giggles, and she glared at them. They managed to silence themselves, but the amusement didn't leave their eyes as they watched the red haired boy flinch.

Moving to stand before him, the tall, elderly reaper glanced down at the boy's desk. He kept his face down cast, staring at his lap as she glanced over his open schoolbook. His handwriting was neat and tidy, and everything seemed to be in order. But she noticed something poking out from under his books. She cleared her throat, "Sutcliff, would you care to show me what you are hiding?" She pushed up her black, cat rimmed glasses, and her yellow green eyes narrowed as she watched him gulp.

The boy hesitated, obviously not wanting to show the woman what he was hiding beneath his books. She began to tap her foot impatiently, and he cleared his throat before answering, "Y-yes ma'am." He mumbled, slowly pulling back his open notebook. Ms. Iris's eyes widened as she saw what had been carved so crudely into his wooden desk.

Laughter almost erupted around the room, but died quickly as Ms. Iris rounded on them, a tight frown forming on her thin lips. The children's faces turned pale, and who ever had written the vile words on the small, quivering boys desk nearly wet their pants.

"Who did this?"

Silence.

"If you come out right now, your punishment won't be as severe."

A child coughed, a timid girl in the back with waved, waist long blond hair. Slowly, she raised her hand. The girls surrounding hissed under their breath, "Claire, don't." but Claire continued to keep her hand firmly in the air. Ms. Iris noted the way she gulped nervously, but she held a determined look in her eyes.

"Yes, Miss Fletcher?" Iris narrowed her eyes. There was no way Claire Fletcher had etched those words into the desk. She wasn't even able to hold the practice scythes without clumsily tripping over herself, being probably the most pure hearted girl the teacher had ever taught.

"I…I know who did…" She looked over at the red haired boy, meeting his eyes briefly then looking back at Ms. Iris. She cleared her throat and continued; "I saw James and Benjamin doing it before class this morning." She pointed to the two boys in the front row, who looked like they were ready to kill the young girl for ratting them out.

They hardly had a moment to blink before Ms. Iris descended upon them, snatching up their ears and dragging them out of the classroom as they hissed in pain.

Grell Sutcliff looked down at his desk, tears welling in his big, green eyes. They surely would beat him to a pulp now.

The words "Foul", "Mutant", and "Idiot," all swirled into one as he shut his eyes tightly. Bowing his head and holding his books close to his chest, Grell tried to be quiet as he cried to himself. It was all because of his stupid hair that the boys picked on him.

He hated the color red. Detested the bright, obnoxious locks that curled around his face. His mother and father both had red hair, as did the rest of his family members. All Sutcliff's had red hair, a family trademark of sorts. He used to love his hair, taking pride as the girls in his kinder garden classes all brushed it out, squealing about how soft and beautiful it was.

But when he had started grade school, everything changed. He found he was smaller, and frailer than most boys. His face was pretty, and his hair drew so much attention to him that he couldn't go anywhere or do anything without someone teasing him. At first, Grell didn't mind. He knew they were just being cruel, and thought that eventually they would cease their mocking. But after an entire two years had gone by, all of his hope had been lost.

Eventually they began to hurt him. If he went to the bathroom, they would corner him, pinning him to the wall while Benjamin, one of the bigger boys and a ringleader of sorts, began slapping him. He would slap Grell so hard his cheeks would be stained the same red as his hair. He would get dizzy, and tears would fill in his eyes as he tried to block the pain out. But he would not make a sound. If he did, the boys would have tried to hurt him more. Sometimes James would have Grell take off his clothes, teasing him and making him show that he really was a boy and not a girl. It embarrassed and both horrified Grell when James would basically strip him of all his clothes, pointing and laughing with the rest of the boys as he tried to cover himself up.

When the rest of the boys had gone, and he was just with James, the taller boy would touch him in odd places, asking Grell if he liked this or that. Grell didn't know what had been going on, and he surely did not like it at all. But still his face would turn red, and he would feel torn between pleasure and horror. James would smack him around a bit, bringing Grell to tears then leaving him, telling him he was disgusting as he went. This caused Grell to flinch at the slightest touch, shaking like a leaf if someone even spoke to him.

Grell had been tormented and ridiculed so severely he began to loath himself. He had even attempted to hack off all his red hair in desperation.

He would never forget when his mother walked in on him as he took the scissors to his hair, hacking away and sobbing as he stood in front of the mirror in his room. He had cut his face too, hating how pretty he was. They kept him out of school until his wounds had healed, and those days he had been absent had been a relief. But then he had had to return.

The little reaper hated every single bit of himself. He wished he could just disappear. He wished he had not been born a Sutcliff, and that his hair was black instead of revolting red.

"Look at him, he's crying." He heard someone whisper.

"Pathetic."

"My father said that the Sutcliff's are powerful. I bet he thinks he's better than everyone else."

"He looks like a girl."

"I bet he's just pretending to cry."

Stiffening when he felt a hand on his shoulder, Grell felt every hair on his body stand on end. "Grell?" A soft voice whispered. It was that girl.

He stood up quickly, his books clattering to the floor. He looked at the blond, the one who had told Ms. Iris who had written on his desk. She looked at him with wide green eyes, and then began to reach out for him.

"Don't touch me!" The words came out louder than he had planed, and all the children looked at him with wide eyes.

Their eyes were all over him. He could feel them boring into him and watching his every move. Grell felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, across his cheek. His hands shook as he balled then into fists, nails digging into his palms painfully and threatening to break through the frail skin. Whispers erupted around the classroom.

Grell pushed past Claire, running out of the schoolroom blindly, reaching his fingers out until they came in contact with a familiar glass doorknob. He opened the door to his favorite hall closet, a place he would often hide.

It was pitch black, but Grell did not care. Shutting the door and dropping to his knees, he hiccupped, feeling snot drip down his nose as he cried. His glasses were crooked, and he pulled them off, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

He wished his mother were there. Grell wanted nothing more than to be held by his mother. She had only hold him a handful of times, but the times she had Grell had savored each moment. Irene, Grells mother, was beautiful and strong. She could be cruel, but Grell didn't mind her cruelty. Hers paled in comparison to his fathers. He tried to be on his best behavior, so his mother and father would be proud of him, and would love him. That was mainly one of the reasons why he didn't tell them he was being teased, so they wouldn't think he was weak and think lesser of him.

At ten years old, Grell knew his parents didn't really want anything to do with him. They would rather be off in the human world than sit with him during breakfast. He knew this, and yet, he wanted nothing more than their approval and love.

Grell pulled at his hair, dropping his glasses and curling into a ball.

His cousins were almost as bad as his classmates. But instead of teasing him about his hair and features, they chose to ignore him. They all were older than him, and when they played they said he was too small and he couldn't play with them.

His classmates teased him constantly, and his family pretended like he didn't exist. The only real friend the boy had was his pet bird, a white dove he had found on the Sutcliff estate. Its wing had been broken, and he had tended to it himself.

"Grell?" A voice said in the darkness, and he stiffened. He hadn't even heard the door open, didn't hear the footsteps draw close to him.

In the darkness he felt someone trying to find his or her way around, fumbling with a switch. The room became flooded with light, and Grell curled up tighter, s if he could become invisible if he did so.

"Oh, your glasses are on the floor," Claire said almost to herself, "They might get crushed if you leave them here."

"Why are you here?" Grell asked, his voice muffled by his arms. "Just leave me alone."

He heard shuffling, and felt her presence beside him. "Because you're crying." He could almost hear the smile in her voice.

Grell had gone so long without speaking to people that he found it hard to partake in conversation. Especially when he was the topic. Being consoled was something he was also not used to, and he felt rather uneasy.

"I…I don't want to talk to you." He muttered.

"That's fine, we don't have to talk."

It was quiet for a few moments, before he felt her hand on his back. She began to rub his back, making small circles with her hand. He stiffened under her touch, his body coiling like a spring, ready to snap at any second. He quivered slightly, gritting his teeth like her touch burned him. He felt all the pent up anger and frustration he had kept inside him for two years suddenly rise to the surface.

"Don't touch me! Get your hands off me and leave me alone! I don't need your pity!" Grell paused, waiting for a reaction from her.

The girl was quiet, but he continued, "I don't even see why you care! There's nothing you're gaining out of trying to comfort me, and all that will come out of it will be the others teasing you for just speaking to me. So why don't you just bugger off and go annoy someone else."

As he snapped at her, the girl kept quiet. He began to cry again, and he shut his eyes tightly. She was so quiet he thought she had left, until he felt her arms slip past his waist, curling around him as she pressed his face into his back. His eyes went wide, and he felt all of his anger and frustration slowly fade. Her touch was so calming, soothing to the red haired reaper. He had never been held in such a way, not even by his own mother.

"I'm sorry." Claire said softly, and Grell bit his lip.

"I don't need you to feel sorry." His voice betrayed his feelings, sorrow dripping from each word.

"My favorite color is red," She continued on, as if he hadn't said something nasty, "Your hair reminds me of roses."

"I don't like either."

"Your hair is very pretty."

Blinking at her words, Grell felt his cheeks heat up, but then cleared his head, "I hate it. I hate the color red. It's the ugliest color in the world." He snapped.

She giggled, and Grell frowned. "It's beautiful. And it suits you."

"Suits me? How?" He scoffed, "All it does is draw attention."

"Red is the color of passion, and I believe you're a very passionate person."

His cheeks turned a darker pink, "What?"

Clair giggled, "You're passionate. I see what kinds of books you read, they're nothing but romance novels."

Grell felt embarrassment wash over him, "S-shut up! What gives you the right to sneak and see what books I'm reading? That's disturbing-"

"I only know because we've checked out the same books from the library. Your name is always on the card of the books I pick."

Grell blinked, not sure what to say to that.

"I like romance too," She went on, "Especially one about a princess and a prince. They're always so lovely."

Sighing, Grell closed his eyes, "I still detest the color red and my hair."

"I think you should be proud of the color red. You should just tell the other boys that you like your red hair and don't care what they say."

Grell frowned, "And what would that accomplish? I would only get more beatings."

"You should be proud of having such lovely hair, and I think you should take pride in it. It makes you different."

He was quiet, pursing his small lips and wondering what this girl was going on about. And why was she cuddling to him? She had only known him for a few minutes, and yet she was acting rather familiar.

She sighed and went on, "They're just jealous of how pretty your hair is. And how nice your face is. I bet all the girls are mean because they think you're prettier than them."

Grell turned almost as red as his hair, and he scooted away from her, getting up and crawling away. "Y-You're…Y-you're really weird." He mumbled, looking away from her as he watched the small girl smile and sit up. He looked away, frowning.

"Yes, but you're weird too. Even so, will you be my friend?"

The boys acid green eyes widened in disbelief. Grell looked back at her, blinking rapidly. It was like she had grown a second head. "But…Why?"

Getting to her knees, Claire leaned over and took his hand. He resisted at first, but Clair was rather firm. Her small hands enveloped his, and she looked into his eyes.

"Because I would love to be your friend."

Tears pricked at his eyes, and he looked down at his lap. "You're strange." His voice was harsh, but he also was not pulling away from her. The girl merely giggled, smiling at him as he looking down at his lap.

After she had wiped at his nose, then put his glasses back in place, Grell and Claire returned to class. All of the children were gathered in small clusters, whispering to themselves.

Except for a boy who sat in the middle of the class. He had dark hair and a cold demeanor, sitting as still as a statue with an almost overly tidy desk. All of his quills and pencils were aligned perfectly, his books stacked from largest to smallest, wile all of his parchment was in order. He was reading a thick, advanced textbook, and pushed his glasses up as he flipped a page. The plaque on his desk read "Spears".

When the two entered the classroom, the children hushed into silence. Grell flinched as they glared at him, and he wanted to run back to the closet. Claire's hand tightened around his, and she boldly walked into the room, slowly, taking her time. The pair wound their way through the bands of glowering students, making their way to Grells desk, which was in the back row, in the corner by the window.

Noticing his books were still on the floor, Grell leaned down and gathered them into his hands, then lifted up the top of his desk to put them inside. His reapers eyes glanced over the mean words. _"They're just jealous." _He gulped, but took his seat, looking up at Claire expectantly.

Going over to her own desk, the other students gasped as she began to drag it over to the other side of the room. The young man with the cold eyes didn't pause in his reading, even as the sound of the desk scraping against the hard wood floors became unbearable for the other students. He merely pushed up his glasses once again.

_Don't be afraid. Act like you don't care._

Finally, Claire had her desk beside Grells, smiling as she pushed the other one out of the way, placing hers where it had been and sliding into her seat. Grell gave her a small, shy smile, blushing as she blushed back at him. The other students gawked at the two, but stayed silent.

Ms. Iris still had not returned, and the other children began to wonder if the boys she had taken with her would ever return. As they waited, Claire had scooted her desk closer to Grells, and began showing him how to fold paper into animals and flowers. He thought it was strange, and had never seen anything like it before.

"It's called origami," She smiled as she folded down the parchment, "My grandfather learned how to do this when he was in the human world. He came across a reaper who had worked in japan," She continued to fold the paper, and Grell watched in amazement as she worked, "He taught me and my brothers. I'm not very good at it." She admitted shyly, holding up a delicate paper flower, smiling at Grell.

"It's so pretty." He smiled cutely, "You're really good at it." He reached out, but drew his hand back; afraid he might ruin the flower. Claire smiled sweetly and set the flower on his desk.

"Hardly, you should see what my grandfather can make," Claire pulled out another thick piece of parchment and began folding, "I want you to have it." She smiled, and Grell gave a small nod, looking down at the flower and reaching out to cradle it carefully in his hands. Licking his lips, he opened his desk, pulling out a book he had been reading and replacing the bookmark he had been using with the flower.

Grell could not help but feel practically giddy at the idea of having a friend. The excitement was almost too over whelming. He had been weary of Claire, but she seemed sweet. And she loved the color red. She said her favorite flower was a rose, and she wished she could have hair like his. That made Grell happy.

Ms. Iris returned, the two boys who had gone with her not at her side. The children ran to their desks, the boy whose desk had been pushed out of the way by Claire wrinkled his nose. He pushed his desk over to where hers had been, grumbling and taking his seat.

Claire went to pull her desk away from Grells but he quickly shot out his hand, grabbing hers and stopping her. Claire blinked, looking at him as he gave her a pleading look.

The little girl smiled and gave him a nod, staying where she was and turning her attention to Ms. Iris, who was staring at the two. She overlooked the fact that Claire had moved her desk, and that hers was shoved up against Grells. The elderly reaper merely cleared her throat and pushed up her glasses. Turning to the black board, she held up a book and began writing with a piece of chalk.

The children frowned over at Grell, but the red head did not notice. He was too busy watching the pretty girl beside him fold paper flowers.

Slowly, the reapers vivid green eyes opened. For an instant he questioned where he was. But then, as he began to fully awaken, he rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head, closing his eyes tightly and wishing to go back to sleep.

It had been a long time since he had dreamt of his childhood, and he had almost forgotten that day entirely. He could still remember dear Claire, his first actual friend. Well, his first and only friend. Grell had continued to stay her friend all through school in fact, even when they went to reaper school and the boys began to follow her around like dogs. Grell had changed over the years of their friendship, becoming feared, confident and cruel. The only real person the red head had ever grown close to had been Claire, since she was the only one who deserved it. Grell had once been in love with her. He had even gone as far as kissing her, when he had in fact been involved with a male reaper at the time. Claire had been sweet, and Grell had truly felt like he loved her, until she told him that they would never be able to marry.

Suddenly, he felt his heart ache, and he closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into the heavy duvet. He remembered the day when he found out she was engaged. It was common for wealthy reaper families to have arranged marriages, but when he had been told Claire was betrothed, he had been shocked, his heart breaking in two.

Claire Fletcher had been the first, and so far only, person Grell had ever truly opened up to. He let her see sides of him no one else was allowed to know of, showing her all there was to see of Grell Sutcliff. After they graduated and became reapers, Grell lost touch with his beloved Claire. He didn't even know the name of the man she was to marry. He admitted to himself that he had been cruel and selfish, cutting off ties with his only friend for something as silly as a broken heart. But Grell had been devastated.

After that, Grell had not opened up to anybody. He became even colder than he already had been, almost ruthless as he reaped souls. He found that if he did open his heart someone as he had with Claire, that they would find a way to break it. If Grell allowed himself to open himself, he would just wind up getting hurt. And Grell could not handle that. So, he shut everyone out. He acted casual and loud mouthed, the flippant attitude being just a façade. Deep down, the Sutcliff was lonely.

The red head blinked, feeling a sudden wetness of his pale cheeks. He sniffed; thinking of Claire had made him tear up. Yes, he had loved her, but he did not love her the same as he did Angelina. But still Grell was afraid. He had fallen in love with her so quickly, almost too quickly. It had taken him years to develop feelings for Claire. But with his lady Angelina, it had taken him only moments. He admitted that at first she had merely been a fascination. Only after spending time with her did his fascination slowly turn to obsession, which eventually became a strange sort of love. When Grell watched her slice into the skin of a filthy street whore, with that wild crazed expression, he felt himself get gooseflesh. And afterward when she was cleaning off her scalpel, she was as calm and serene as the Virgin Mary. Angelina was a bloody, beautiful masterpiece, and he wished to follow her for all of his days. Thinking of her even now made his heart nearly burst, and he smiled to himself like a schoolgirl, a blush coating his cheeks as he recalled their heated kisses.

Grell began to feel a bit aroused just thinking about it, and he tried desperately not to imagine his little poisonous flower sprawled out before him, panting and wanton. He tried in vain, already feeling his member come to life. Closing his eyes, he tried with all his might to not think of her, but Angelina was the first thing he saw when he closed his eyes. He saw her smile; saw her lovely eyes as they looked at him, awaiting his next move.

Letting out a noise that was a cross between a feral mewl and a whimper Grell fidgeted in the binding of blankets he had wrapped himself in. It was starting to get rather uncomfortable now, as he could not reach for his member since his arms were bound. Instead it pressed awkwardly into the duvet.

He rolled his eyes, feeling absolutely pathetic. He truly was a schoolboy, getting hard just by thinking of Angelina. He felt dirty, but at the same time he couldn't possibly see how someone could not get aroused by thinking of such a seductive creature like Madam Red.

Grell began to slowly replay the events of last night in his mind, moaning softly as he remembered how her lips had moved against him. He was aching slightly, the tightness pressing into his member feeling both good and painful. But Grell liked a bit of pain.

Then he recalled the ending to his short-lived sexual encounter with his madam, and wanted to fall back asleep and never wake up ever again as his erection began to deflate. He painfully recalled how he had laid between her legs, staring like a complete dunce at her nether regions, completely lost as what to do. With a man he just would have done what felt natural, and Grell thought he had been doing quite fine up until that point. Up until he began to think about what he was doing instead of following his "manly" instincts, and his thinking began to panic, which lead to his beautiful woman asking is he _knew what he was doing_.

"I am such a fool." He mumbled miserably into the comforter, closing his eyes and pouting. "An inexperienced fool. Being with a woman is nothing like being with a man!"

He wondered how he would educate himself on proper sex with women. Surely there had to be books on the subject…Hopefully, since Grell had no male friends to confide in whatsoever. Such books would be virtually impossible to find, but he would still try. He gulped as he imagined himself going into a human library or bookstore and asking a custodian for such books. Who would even write such racy things? Maybe he could just simply ask someone he knew, someone he worked with? The first person who popped into the reapers head was William.

Grell frowned to himself, instantly scratching William off the list.

He doubted his cold-hearted colleague would know what to do, since William was as experienced with women as the red head was. Come to think of it, Grell had never seen William even speak to a woman outside of work. Not even when the office had parties-which Grell rarely ever attended to-William would never go. He had been to Williams's apartment, letting himself in like a stray cat. William T. Spears home was as cold and uninviting as he was. The red haired reaper hoped William would find a girlfriend; his apartment definitely needed a woman's touch. And he certainly needed to have sex. Grell was positive that if William would just loosen up and find some sort of physical release, he wouldn't be such a stick in the mud. Sighing, Grell frowned to himself, trying to wrack his brain for solutions before his eyes widened.

Popping into a sitting position, Grell struggled to get free of the thick duvet cocoon he had put himself in, trying to reach across his bed to the nightstand, grabbing his death ledger. He silently prayed that it was not the day he suspected it was.

Flipping quickly through the pages of his ledger, a worn folded piece of parchment fell out and onto the mattress. It was in the shape of a flower, and looked quite old. His green eyes scanned the page, and then he groaned, nearly throwing his book across the room as he fell back onto the bed, his hair fanning around him and he pouted up at the ceiling.

He had to go back to the reaper world that day for a monthly meeting. It was rather uneventful and pointless, and he rarely ever went, sometimes just popping his head in the meeting room and saying "Hello!" at the top of his lungs, then leaving as quickly as he had come. But that month he had to go. If he didn't attend, William would become suspicious and would come looking for him. And if he came looking for him and found him serving a human woman, who was not on the to die list, he would surely be scolded.

The reaper chewed at his bottom lip as he thought of how his lady would react when he told her he would have to go back that day. But, he supposed this was not a bad thing. He had had something he wanted to check up on, a specific item that he could only come across in the reaper library.

Grell desired Angelina's book of life, and he knew he would only be able to obtain it if he actually went to the library. He would simply check out the book and then be only his marry way, making a quick appearance at the meeting for his district. He would be home in time for tea.

He frowned. But he wanted to actually attempt to clean the house today, and he had wanted to spend time with his madam. Sighing, he turned over and looked at the clock. It was half past eight. There was no way his lady was up, since Madam Red was a heavy sleeper and could sleep for an entire day if he allowed her to. She did not have to be to work until ten.

A grin pulled onto his lips, exposing his sharp teeth as he shot out of bed, landing on his feet and prancing over to his vanity. Sitting in front of his mirror, Grell frowned as he looked at his long, toussled hair. He wore only a white button down shirt, which was long enough so it covered his lower half. The buttons were half way undone, and his chest was exposed slightly. The reaper frowned, studying himself.

He didn't have any make up on, and he thought he looked dreadful. But he wondered if Angelina liked his make up. What if she thought it looked strange? Grell had never been one to care of what others thought-except when he had been a boy-but now he was becoming oddly self-conscious.

His eyes traveled over his long hair, and he worried out his lip as he grabbed a fist full, letting the silky tendrils drop from his grasp. What if she did not like his hair?

Grell had had it short when he had been a reaper in training. He had liked it short, but had begun to grow it out to bother his parents and William. And having it long made him all the more beautiful in his eyes. Frowning, Grell contemplated cutting his hair, chewing the inside of his lip. He adored his long hair, but it did get in the way from time to time…

He leaned forward, banging his head lightly on the top of his vanity and groaning. He was thinking way too much about his hair and what not. He felt ridiculous.

Moving to rest his chin on the table, Grell looked at himself once more. He had been told he was rather handsome in the past, even referred to as lovely a handful of times. But what did Angelina think of him? Did she think he was handsome? Did she find him as attractive as he found her?

Concentrating, Grell used his appearance charm to make his hair short. He made it look like it had when he was in reaper training. He leaned back, studying himself. It was merely a charm, and his hair could go back to being long if he wanted. Turning his head every which way, Grell pursed his lips and then bared his teeth. They were horrifically pointed, something he himself also didn't quite understand.

He didn't bother wasting his time using a charm to make them normal; he liked biting into his lady with his sharp incisors.

Adjusting his glasses, he eyed the large powder puff lying in a small glass dish of face powder. He usually dowsed his face in it before leaving his room, then he added his fake eyelashes and a touch of blush and voila! He was complete.

But today he was going for a different look. He picked up the puff and lightly put some powder on his cheeks, then grabbed a small tin he had of clear lip balm. Dabbing his long finger into the smooth substance, he dabbed it over his full lips, rubbing them together and inspecting himself with worried eyes.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Grell grabbed a hairbrush and ran it through his short locks quickly, then rose to his feet, going to his wardrobe and pulling out his usual attire, tossing his slacks and jacket on his bed. Pulling off his sleep shirt, he paused, looking down at his naked body.

Grell was quite lean, his limbs long and slender, and his body containing scarce amounts of muscle. But he was rather well toned, the muscles he had being lean. He was incredibly strong-as were all reapers-but he did not appear so. Grell was capable of lifting a carriage and a horse easily without breaking a sweat, he could move so fast he was invisible to the human eye, and he could crush a human scull in his slender, elegant hands. And yet when faced with the glorious task of making love to his woman, Grell couldn't even bring her to orgasm let alone make her scream out his name.

He grabbed at his short hair and pulled, pouting and winning loudly, "I am such an idiot!" He looked down at his member, sniffling as he screamed at the organ as if it were alive, "I don't deserve to have you!"

The clock chimed, causing him to stop yelling at his penis and look up, eyes nearly bugging out when he saw it was nine! His ladyship would be leaving soon, and he still hadn't fixed her breakfast or even awoken her!

Quickly he slipped on a fresh dress shirt, fumbling with the buttons and cursing to himself. Slipping on his slacks quickly, Grell tripped over himself and nearly broke his nose as he fell to the ground. Growling in frustration he popped back up, heaving a heavy sigh as put on his brown vest, and then slipped on his armbands. He grabbed his black tie, remembering how badly he usually tied the blasted thing, but still put it around his neck and tied it as best as he could. Slipping on his red socks and shoes, Grell was tripping out the door, leaving his black jacket behind.

Standing before his lady's door, he paused, as if frozen. He wiped some sweat from his brow, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths before lifting a hand to the door and knocking gently. To his surprise, the door slowly creaked open. His eyebrows drew together in confusion, and suddenly Grell felt a slight breeze waft through his now short hair.

"Madam?" He asked, cautiously walking into the room, his acid green eyes darting about suspiciously. The chair to her vanity was turned over, which was quite odd. Grell bend over, going to grab the chair and putting it back in place when he noticed a cool breeze blow through the room.

Looking up, it was then he saw the large window beside her bed was wide open, the curtains swaying slightly in the breeze, the sun illuminating the room. His eyes moved over to the bed, which was surprisingly empty. Grell looked around, wondering if his lady was hiding somewhere. But to his shock, she was nowhere to be found.

The reapers sharp eyes landed on the shattered lamp on the floor, the light usually found beside his lady's bed, broken to bits. As his heart began to race, he saw that the lamp was not the only thing broken, the small bowl she used to freshen up with in the mornings and a small hand held mirror had been pushed-or possibly thrown-off her nightstand. The fine china was scattered all across the floor, and his inhuman eyes picked up the faint droplets of blood. The scent filled his nose, and he didn't know how he didn't notice it before.

Grells heart began to beat so quickly it was become painful. His legs moved on their own, going to the shattered lamp and bowl, eyes widening in shock when he saw the bloody footsteps. The feet were small, and no doubt Madam Reds. Following the trail, he pivoted, the steps leading to the door, where a small silver key lay on the ground amongst a rather large splatter of blood. The trail ended there. He turned sharply, almost tripping as he looked back at the window. His eyes scanned everything now, seeing far better than a human ever could. He saw the faint splashed of blood on the billowing curtains…The blood on the windowsill.

"Oh no…" His voice was barely audible, the reapers voice lost to him.

Angelina had been stolen. Or worse.

Grell became almost invisible as he moved over to the bed, searching for anything, a lock of hair, an item of clothing. Anything. He felt like he was about to vomit when he saw a few drops of blood on the bed. Normally, the sight would have excited the reaper. But now, as he thought of his lovely Angelina being captured in the dead of night, being harmed by a man, her blood being spilled by his hands and her life on the line…

_No._

He could see it now, could see the vile creature sneaking in through the window-the window which Grell should have locked-going to her as she slept and…And…

_I should have been there!_

The reapers blood began to simmer, his usually elegant hands curling into shaking fists. His sharp nails dug into his palms, causing blood to drip from his fists and onto the floor. He bared his teeth, his shoulders shaking with rage as the air around the grim reaper began to swirl. Loose papers in Angelina's room rustled, and then began to fly about the small tornado surrounding Grell. His energy was spiking, something that had never happened to him before. As a grim reaper, he contained a large amount of unearthly energy. He was able to maintain it, as all other reapers did. But when faced with something emotionally jarring, reapers had a hard time controlling themselves. They called this phenomenon an _"Upsurge"_ Which was what Grell was experiencing right then.

His short hair whipped around his face as he looked at the blood. His heart was beating much too fast, and his blood felt like it was on fire as adrenaline and pure rage began to fuel him. If someone was to walk in on the man right then, they would surely have screamed in terror, since he looked simply demonic as he stood by Madam Red's blood stained bed and tussled room. His mouth was pulled down into a cruel scowl, his eyes fiendish and burning with rage.

Grell had never experienced such fury in all his days.

Some filthy wretch had stolen something precious of his. Had put their hands where they surely didn't belong and drew the blood of his property. Grell Sutcliff intended to get it back.

* * *

Eeeeyup. So, there was some pretty dark shit in this chapter. And no, the James boy never entered Grell, nor did he ever expose himself to Grell and did not make him preform oral sex. He just touched his privates and taunted him. This may or may not have lead to Grells attraction to men, but definitely added to his insecurity with his own gender (making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin and uneasy when he was faced with certain situations) Sorry this chapter wasn't that good.


End file.
